Talk about a slam to self-confidence.
I mean, I always knew I wasn't much in the way of a heroine, especially the kind that always got the guy and had a halo of light illuminating cascading waves of hair (Arwen comes to mind). But is it so wrong to think that you have something special that counts for something? Just something?
Jake was a professional liar. He was paid millions to perform the greatest lie for four years. But we had a friendship that broke all the rules. If he were to tell anyone the whole truth and nothing but the truth, the common belief (and my own belief as well) was that I would be that one person.
So not true.
"He wasn't anywhere near the car accident that killed his parents," Tristan told me last night. We had been talking about the books I want to write about us, and one of my ideas was to incorporate Jake's story with our own. "He was stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan when he got his own injury."
"What?" I shook my head. "No, he said he was here with his parents-"
"No, he was in the military. How do you think they knew where to find him?"
Okay, maybe this was just a little detail Jake never mentioned. I wasn't going to let it bother me, at least I hoped not to. "He never told me he was a soldier!"
"Marine Corps. He was definitely military."
That slammed into me. A marine? I've been dumped/ditched by an effing MARINE?!? Memories of Jake training me, of hugging him and feeling rock-solid pectorals, of him protecting me and fighting so silently I would wonder if he was even there anymore... they flooded my mind and I felt the intense pain and anger at discovering yet another lie. Something so simple as "hey, yeah, I was in the Marines" was never, ever uttered and yet he had no issues telling me about his dalliances with another woman. And there was, and will always be, that fact hanging over my head: he didn't stay after Tristan returned. He found nothing worth staying for.
"Gosh, you would think of all people, you'd be the one he told."
I sighed and rolled over so Tristan wouldn't see my cry. "Thank you, Tristan," I said with the clearest voice I could muster. "My self-worth would not be sufficiently destroyed without that reminder." I curled up and tried to think of anything else. All I could do was groan, "I've been dumped by a Marine and an intergalactic prince."
Tristan laughed. And couldn't stop laughing. "I'm sorry!" He gasped between fits of laughter. "I don't know why I'm laughing! Inappropriate emotions! This is so not cool!" He laughed and laughed, all the while continuously apologizing for doing so. I knew he really meant it and remembered that a) schizophrenics tend to have inappropriate emotions without meaning to and b) Gorans can be heartless without meaning to. I rolled over and sighed, thinking I should probably help. "Kittens drowning."
"BWUAHAHAHAAAAAA!" He laughed harder! The bed was shaking from how intensely he was laughing and suddenly, I found the whole thing just hilarious. We shook the mattress with our laughter and I actually felt better about life, and it was Tristan's grossly inappropriate emotions that did the trick. Every time I wanted to be mad, sad, or just blah, somehow he was able to make me laugh.
Several moments later I started crying again. Quietly, of course, lest I should incite Tristan's sarcastic inquiries into why I'm crying, it's not big deal, etc etc. I took several deep breaths, curled my arms up under my head (something I've done since infancy to sleep faster), and willed the tears away.
In the dark I could see Tristan lift his head and look at me. He sighed, and I braced myself for the onslaught.
"Okay," he muttered, "for one night only, until I get annoyed with you." Then to my surprise, he wiggled closer and lay his head on my arm, just where I could rest my face against his hair. I nuzzled him just enough to test the waters, but he didn't move and I relaxed. And smiled. There's just something about the way Second-Humans are wired that makes physical human contact the cure-all for any emotional ailment, and being a half-breed I definitely possess that need. Just feeling someone there soothed the storm in my mind and heart, and I didn't know how to properly thank Tristan for not only understanding this fickle Second-Human thing, but providing it. Finally.
We fell asleep like that. Sometime later I woke up with a major cramp in my arm, but I didn't want to wake him up or hurt his feelings by shoving him off. In retrospect he really wouldn't have cared. Eventually he woke up enough to roll off with an "okay, that's done" and I couldn't help but smile as I adjusted to go back to sleep. Tristan Keller can't hide his heart of gold no matter how deep he buries it.
If Jake is still alive, and if I ever see him again, I'm not sure I'll run into his arms in a fit of hysterical bliss like I used to think I would. How can I? He lied to me about EVERYTHING, left me here without a single warning or actual explanation or even a notice, and despite some theories that he really did love me and just didn't know how to reconcile that with his responsibilities, I just can't afford to have faith in that anymore.
And damn it all, I'm torn between a memory and a real, breathing person.
3.19.2011
Sex and babies
Reading my old journal entries (on a private "blog" I have on my hard drive from last year) is self-induced torture. But I do find some good one-liners.
"If I could travel back in time I'd kick my own ass."
"How do I tell him how much I love him? I've given in to the fact that I just don't."
Stuff like that.
I read the journal entries describing certain events in which one would think "awwwwww they love each other so much! He is so protective and".... Crap. I can't even come up with something good to describe me that's as accurate as "she's such a distrusting bitch". *Sigh*
True, the past is the past. What happened then won't happen again and there's no point wasting tears over something you can't change. But freak it all. I have entries from a time when we were so certain, so grounded, so determined in our love for each other. When we had a mutual love for each other.
When we were going to get married.
But things just didn't work out. I never dealt with my bitterness about everything in my life and Tristan had his own issues that he's still sorting through. At moments I felt the tears sting my eyes as I read, and remembered, the way he would stroke my hair and tell me how much he loved me and was proud of me. How he would hold me close after an encounter with less than savory characters. I remembered the way he looked at me, caressing my face, when he told me I didn't have to worry about an old frenemy anymore.
It's terribly sad how we as people don't see or understand the underlying truth until it is far too late. Tristan was right, it's not about the decorations or food, it's about the actual marriage (when planning a wedding). At the time he told me that, I snapped back at him that I refuse to get married in a warehouse with flimsy paper napkins and no linens because we're "freaking ROYALTY". I could just bitch-slap myself. Wtf? What the hell was I even thinking? Shoot, today I'd be happy just having the legal papers drawn! If I get married in a fallout shelter during WWIII, mazeltov! But as things are, I'm lucky enough to be an aunt. "Wife" and "mother" just aren't in my list of options as things stand, no matter how much I pray for them to be.
Lately I have been pondering over the current situation of my life at hand, and I've realized I have what I want short of sex and babies. What's the most important part of a relationship to me? The companionship. Not like, oh baby let me hold you and neck you in WalMart and then take you home to make sweet sweet love.....ick. I mean like, hey let's go get groceries and argue over the prices of sliced cheese so we can go home and make blended drinks and watch independent films before the parents arrive for a gourmet supper we only cook for company. (Which is what Tristan and I did today, jsyk).
I guess what I'm realizing is, if the rest of my life is living with Tristan as an untouched virgin aunt, I'm going to be pretty happy. Not as happy as I'd be with sex and babies, but content. And comfortable.
A big issue I've always had with Tristan is my lack of trust in him, and I've really been working hard at developing a sense of trust with him. It's not anything he's done, it's everything I've ever grown up with. Like, learning that men are unreliable, conniving, thieving, sick-minded bastards and women have to do everything themselves. Oh how I wanted to live a life where that wasn't true. And lo and behold, I was given it. I just didn't know how to act or handle it. And despite everything, I still have that life. Tristan and I both have our issues, but if there's one thing that I've learned, it's that I can trust him to protect me and those he loves. When he says we should can food and get a bomb shelter with emergency kits, I start making a list of what, how much and where we will put all the supplies.
While thinking things over today, I realized that I am still here, still by his side, because I see so much good in him. Deep, intrinstic good. He rejects his responsibilities as a prince because he fears being unable to save our people, but I know him. He WILL save us. I believe in him, not in an idea of him, but the actual him. I have seen his goodness and I know deep down, he will not fail us.
"If I could travel back in time I'd kick my own ass."
"How do I tell him how much I love him? I've given in to the fact that I just don't."
Stuff like that.
I read the journal entries describing certain events in which one would think "awwwwww they love each other so much! He is so protective and".... Crap. I can't even come up with something good to describe me that's as accurate as "she's such a distrusting bitch". *Sigh*
True, the past is the past. What happened then won't happen again and there's no point wasting tears over something you can't change. But freak it all. I have entries from a time when we were so certain, so grounded, so determined in our love for each other. When we had a mutual love for each other.
When we were going to get married.
But things just didn't work out. I never dealt with my bitterness about everything in my life and Tristan had his own issues that he's still sorting through. At moments I felt the tears sting my eyes as I read, and remembered, the way he would stroke my hair and tell me how much he loved me and was proud of me. How he would hold me close after an encounter with less than savory characters. I remembered the way he looked at me, caressing my face, when he told me I didn't have to worry about an old frenemy anymore.
It's terribly sad how we as people don't see or understand the underlying truth until it is far too late. Tristan was right, it's not about the decorations or food, it's about the actual marriage (when planning a wedding). At the time he told me that, I snapped back at him that I refuse to get married in a warehouse with flimsy paper napkins and no linens because we're "freaking ROYALTY". I could just bitch-slap myself. Wtf? What the hell was I even thinking? Shoot, today I'd be happy just having the legal papers drawn! If I get married in a fallout shelter during WWIII, mazeltov! But as things are, I'm lucky enough to be an aunt. "Wife" and "mother" just aren't in my list of options as things stand, no matter how much I pray for them to be.
Lately I have been pondering over the current situation of my life at hand, and I've realized I have what I want short of sex and babies. What's the most important part of a relationship to me? The companionship. Not like, oh baby let me hold you and neck you in WalMart and then take you home to make sweet sweet love.....ick. I mean like, hey let's go get groceries and argue over the prices of sliced cheese so we can go home and make blended drinks and watch independent films before the parents arrive for a gourmet supper we only cook for company. (Which is what Tristan and I did today, jsyk).
I guess what I'm realizing is, if the rest of my life is living with Tristan as an untouched virgin aunt, I'm going to be pretty happy. Not as happy as I'd be with sex and babies, but content. And comfortable.
A big issue I've always had with Tristan is my lack of trust in him, and I've really been working hard at developing a sense of trust with him. It's not anything he's done, it's everything I've ever grown up with. Like, learning that men are unreliable, conniving, thieving, sick-minded bastards and women have to do everything themselves. Oh how I wanted to live a life where that wasn't true. And lo and behold, I was given it. I just didn't know how to act or handle it. And despite everything, I still have that life. Tristan and I both have our issues, but if there's one thing that I've learned, it's that I can trust him to protect me and those he loves. When he says we should can food and get a bomb shelter with emergency kits, I start making a list of what, how much and where we will put all the supplies.
While thinking things over today, I realized that I am still here, still by his side, because I see so much good in him. Deep, intrinstic good. He rejects his responsibilities as a prince because he fears being unable to save our people, but I know him. He WILL save us. I believe in him, not in an idea of him, but the actual him. I have seen his goodness and I know deep down, he will not fail us.
3.15.2011
Clarification
I feel I must clarify a couple things, regarding the past posts and the entire premise of this blog.
Yes, Tristan has been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.
No, this does not make his story untrue. He actually IS an intergalactic prince with amazing abilities who once served the United States as an "unknown soldier". This can be verified by several individuals, events and documents if/when we ever become truly public. A main document we do have is the DNA test results verifying that he is in no way genetically related to anyone in his family. They do not know about this, and I do know exactly where the paperwork is.
Yes, there are such things as aliens. The grays are our enemies, as well as the reptilians. Gora is a nation of First Humans among several other First Human nations all from the same planet (Mars), but is the one we best relate to/know of. It is the "America" of the First Human world. Tristan is their prince whether he is diagnosed with a mental illness or not.
Said mental illness was brought on by intense stupidity on behalf of whoever had the brilliant notion of training Goran and non-Goran children alike how to be psychic. My father was not part of that training and somehow I doubt he knew it existed. Otherwise he would have probably done something to prevent the damage that is caused by such dangerous procedures. Whether you want to blame demons or science, opening inner doors in your mind can and will lead to very intense setbacks such as schizophrenia, dimentia, paranoia, bipolarity, epilepsy and in extreme cases, a coma. You don't have to be a medical professional to know this. You just have to get close enough to your own mental doors to feel the burst of electricity humming strong enough to feel bad.
Yes, Tristan has been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.
No, this does not make his story untrue. He actually IS an intergalactic prince with amazing abilities who once served the United States as an "unknown soldier". This can be verified by several individuals, events and documents if/when we ever become truly public. A main document we do have is the DNA test results verifying that he is in no way genetically related to anyone in his family. They do not know about this, and I do know exactly where the paperwork is.
Yes, there are such things as aliens. The grays are our enemies, as well as the reptilians. Gora is a nation of First Humans among several other First Human nations all from the same planet (Mars), but is the one we best relate to/know of. It is the "America" of the First Human world. Tristan is their prince whether he is diagnosed with a mental illness or not.
Said mental illness was brought on by intense stupidity on behalf of whoever had the brilliant notion of training Goran and non-Goran children alike how to be psychic. My father was not part of that training and somehow I doubt he knew it existed. Otherwise he would have probably done something to prevent the damage that is caused by such dangerous procedures. Whether you want to blame demons or science, opening inner doors in your mind can and will lead to very intense setbacks such as schizophrenia, dimentia, paranoia, bipolarity, epilepsy and in extreme cases, a coma. You don't have to be a medical professional to know this. You just have to get close enough to your own mental doors to feel the burst of electricity humming strong enough to feel bad.
Healthcare
"For English, press one. Para espanol, el numero dos."
"For questions about medication, press one. For questions about behavior, press two. To speak with your therapist, press three."
"I'm sorry, but there are no available therapists to take your call. Goodbye."
"For English, press one. Para espanol, el numero dos."
"For questions about medication, press one. For-"
"For prescription refills, press one. To speak with a doctor, press two."
"I'm sorry, your doctor is on vacation. Goodbye."
"Thank you for calling the mental health center, how may I direct your call?"
"Did you leave a message with the nurse on staff?"
"Well you need to leave a message, she will take the information and give it to the next available doctor, and he will get back to you. What is the patient's name?"
"Hm, we don't have anyone by that name or birth date on record. Did you come in recently?"
"Ah, okay, since it was last week we don't have the records in yet. Just leave a message with the nurse and she will have the doctor get back to you as soon as possible."
"Hi, this is Doctor so-and-so, I hear you have some questions about Tristan's medication?"
I banged my head against the bedroom door and bit back the "no shit, Sherlock!" that threatened to burst out of my mouth. "Yes, there seems to have been a lapse in it's effectiveness and now he refuses to take it. And it's bad."
"Why didn't he take it?"
Memories from only five hours before of Tristan gripping a kitchen knife laughing maniacally that he won't take the "poison" I was "tricking him into taking" flashed in my head and I wished right then and there that I could project this image into every single medical car professional's mind. "He says it's poison."
"Well, he needs to take it."
Call me stupid but I certainly don't need a bachelor's degree to know that. "Well, he won't. He doesn't want to take any poison."
"Why does he think it's poison? Is it doing anything bad to him?"
Yes! It's not working! "The voices in his head told him it's poison." I tried very hard to suck out the dripping disdain from my voice. I'm a halfway-there anthropologist spelling out schizophrenia to a psychiatrist. For a moment I wondered who exactly I was talking to because if the universes of Youtube, Yahoo and Google all know a typical reaction to medication is the word "poison", a professional psychiatrist wouldn't have to even ask all these dumb questions.
Okay, to be fair, I understand that every patient is different, they need all the facts before proceeding, etc etc, but even so, they still lump Tristan in with the "20-something males who develop schizophrenia around 18 years-old" and made him get $200 worth of medication that wears off 5 hours after sleeping for 10. Of course it gets rid of the voices because it shuts off his brain!
"You're not his wife, you're not his girlfriend, you're not his legal guardian, you're just his friend!" Mom reminded me that 5 times when I called her to ask for advice about what to do with work. "You have to go to work! He is not your responsibility!"
"Why do YOU have to take him in?" Our boss, the head manager of the store Tristan and I work at, was not understanding at all when I called in to let him know I'd be late if I could show up at all. "Why can't his parents take him in? His own parents aren't on the release papers? And there is no one else who can take him?"
By the grace of God, I didn't curl up into a ball and cry. For a moment I wondered what I was even doing, why I was there to begin with. But I quickly remembered. I care about Tristan. I'm his friend, and friends help each other when we need it. Having voices tell you to kill yourself, that you're worthless, is a situation that calls for major help, and when family and friends are out of town and the doctors don't even have your records, and the only person available for you right now is your roommate.... Well, between doing what's right and saving my job, I picked the obvious.
I am sooooooo sick of the current healthcare system. And this is our nation WITHOUT social healthcare! If it's this bad privatized, and Tristan is just going through a public form, how the hell does anyone expect social healthcare to be BETTER??????
No one has any answers short of calling the police to have Tristan involuntarily committed to the mental ward of the nearest hospital until the episode(s) pass. I thank God for protecting us enough that it's never come to that, especially since Jake trained me in disarming knife-wielding maniacs. I'm never afraid for my own life, it's Tristan's that scares me. Like I told his therapist (who is probably one of the worst in effectiveness, especially since he dismisses me every time I have a legitimate concern), it's like playing tug-of-war with an invisible person.
I am very painfully aware that I am not Tristan's wife. That shipped sailed before I could board, nevermind that I had my bags packed and ready for the amazing journey. I know I'm not his girlfriend. That fact is reminded to me every single day either by self-control or Tristan's voice reiterating it. But dammit, a great commander in one of the most powerful ghost divisions in the United States Special Operations Command made me in charge of making sure Tristan lives in one piece. His temporary successor underlined that order, and Tristan's (and my) unofficial new commander (by trust more than position) has further encouraged me to keep going with this task. Even Jake made sure I was ready by teaching me how to deal with the stresses of instabilities.
Why can't the world just accept things as they are? I'm Tristan's constant companion so yes, I do happen to know quite a bit more about him than his own mother! Yes, I am the only one who can take him in for medical care with the exception of Alex, who is currently on vacation! And yes, I DO freaking need assistance NOW!
At least the nurses and doctor got that last message clearly enough to respond fairly quickly. Even the receptionist finally understood the words coming through slightly gritted teeth enough to not make me leave a message and patch me through directly to an actual nurse and not a machine. The doctor was actually really nice and seemed to understand that I was hiding from Tristan so there would be no tragic misunderstandings about my intentions of this phone call. Finally, someone cooperated.
Today Tristan's therapist called while I was on the phone with Tristan (who is back on his medication and back to work thanks to his own reason thankfully getting past the voices), so he left a message. He wanted me to call him back, leave him a message and he'd respond tomorrow. I called back hoping he'd have the courtesy and sense to answer since he had to be in the office only 1 minute after calling me, but no such luck. And I left a message about how yes, I have SEVERAL questions and concerns about the medication and would greatly appreciate him returning my call ASAP.
Still no call back.
I keep reminding myself this is a walk through Disneyland compared to last spring in Washington. Oh dear Lord, that was horrible. And we actually lived in the area that has the best mental health care in the nation, they just don't do anything unless you call the police or men in white coats to have a person committed. I just couldn't do that to Tristan. The few times he did try to kill me, I wasn't afraid, I was just majorly creeped out by the look of hatred and fear that kept flashing back and forth in his eyes. He told me later that all he remembered was screaming at the people he saw and heard command him to kill me that he wouldn't. I was never bruised, cut, or anything like that.
Tristan is doing better, and that's really all that matters. And I will take on the world's criticism of me if it means getting him the help he needs to finally get some peace.
"For questions about medication, press one. For questions about behavior, press two. To speak with your therapist, press three."
"I'm sorry, but there are no available therapists to take your call. Goodbye."
"For English, press one. Para espanol, el numero dos."
"For questions about medication, press one. For-"
"For prescription refills, press one. To speak with a doctor, press two."
"I'm sorry, your doctor is on vacation. Goodbye."
"Thank you for calling the mental health center, how may I direct your call?"
"Did you leave a message with the nurse on staff?"
"Well you need to leave a message, she will take the information and give it to the next available doctor, and he will get back to you. What is the patient's name?"
"Hm, we don't have anyone by that name or birth date on record. Did you come in recently?"
"Ah, okay, since it was last week we don't have the records in yet. Just leave a message with the nurse and she will have the doctor get back to you as soon as possible."
"Hi, this is Doctor so-and-so, I hear you have some questions about Tristan's medication?"
I banged my head against the bedroom door and bit back the "no shit, Sherlock!" that threatened to burst out of my mouth. "Yes, there seems to have been a lapse in it's effectiveness and now he refuses to take it. And it's bad."
"Why didn't he take it?"
Memories from only five hours before of Tristan gripping a kitchen knife laughing maniacally that he won't take the "poison" I was "tricking him into taking" flashed in my head and I wished right then and there that I could project this image into every single medical car professional's mind. "He says it's poison."
"Well, he needs to take it."
Call me stupid but I certainly don't need a bachelor's degree to know that. "Well, he won't. He doesn't want to take any poison."
"Why does he think it's poison? Is it doing anything bad to him?"
Yes! It's not working! "The voices in his head told him it's poison." I tried very hard to suck out the dripping disdain from my voice. I'm a halfway-there anthropologist spelling out schizophrenia to a psychiatrist. For a moment I wondered who exactly I was talking to because if the universes of Youtube, Yahoo and Google all know a typical reaction to medication is the word "poison", a professional psychiatrist wouldn't have to even ask all these dumb questions.
Okay, to be fair, I understand that every patient is different, they need all the facts before proceeding, etc etc, but even so, they still lump Tristan in with the "20-something males who develop schizophrenia around 18 years-old" and made him get $200 worth of medication that wears off 5 hours after sleeping for 10. Of course it gets rid of the voices because it shuts off his brain!
"You're not his wife, you're not his girlfriend, you're not his legal guardian, you're just his friend!" Mom reminded me that 5 times when I called her to ask for advice about what to do with work. "You have to go to work! He is not your responsibility!"
"Why do YOU have to take him in?" Our boss, the head manager of the store Tristan and I work at, was not understanding at all when I called in to let him know I'd be late if I could show up at all. "Why can't his parents take him in? His own parents aren't on the release papers? And there is no one else who can take him?"
By the grace of God, I didn't curl up into a ball and cry. For a moment I wondered what I was even doing, why I was there to begin with. But I quickly remembered. I care about Tristan. I'm his friend, and friends help each other when we need it. Having voices tell you to kill yourself, that you're worthless, is a situation that calls for major help, and when family and friends are out of town and the doctors don't even have your records, and the only person available for you right now is your roommate.... Well, between doing what's right and saving my job, I picked the obvious.
I am sooooooo sick of the current healthcare system. And this is our nation WITHOUT social healthcare! If it's this bad privatized, and Tristan is just going through a public form, how the hell does anyone expect social healthcare to be BETTER??????
No one has any answers short of calling the police to have Tristan involuntarily committed to the mental ward of the nearest hospital until the episode(s) pass. I thank God for protecting us enough that it's never come to that, especially since Jake trained me in disarming knife-wielding maniacs. I'm never afraid for my own life, it's Tristan's that scares me. Like I told his therapist (who is probably one of the worst in effectiveness, especially since he dismisses me every time I have a legitimate concern), it's like playing tug-of-war with an invisible person.
I am very painfully aware that I am not Tristan's wife. That shipped sailed before I could board, nevermind that I had my bags packed and ready for the amazing journey. I know I'm not his girlfriend. That fact is reminded to me every single day either by self-control or Tristan's voice reiterating it. But dammit, a great commander in one of the most powerful ghost divisions in the United States Special Operations Command made me in charge of making sure Tristan lives in one piece. His temporary successor underlined that order, and Tristan's (and my) unofficial new commander (by trust more than position) has further encouraged me to keep going with this task. Even Jake made sure I was ready by teaching me how to deal with the stresses of instabilities.
Why can't the world just accept things as they are? I'm Tristan's constant companion so yes, I do happen to know quite a bit more about him than his own mother! Yes, I am the only one who can take him in for medical care with the exception of Alex, who is currently on vacation! And yes, I DO freaking need assistance NOW!
At least the nurses and doctor got that last message clearly enough to respond fairly quickly. Even the receptionist finally understood the words coming through slightly gritted teeth enough to not make me leave a message and patch me through directly to an actual nurse and not a machine. The doctor was actually really nice and seemed to understand that I was hiding from Tristan so there would be no tragic misunderstandings about my intentions of this phone call. Finally, someone cooperated.
Today Tristan's therapist called while I was on the phone with Tristan (who is back on his medication and back to work thanks to his own reason thankfully getting past the voices), so he left a message. He wanted me to call him back, leave him a message and he'd respond tomorrow. I called back hoping he'd have the courtesy and sense to answer since he had to be in the office only 1 minute after calling me, but no such luck. And I left a message about how yes, I have SEVERAL questions and concerns about the medication and would greatly appreciate him returning my call ASAP.
Still no call back.
I keep reminding myself this is a walk through Disneyland compared to last spring in Washington. Oh dear Lord, that was horrible. And we actually lived in the area that has the best mental health care in the nation, they just don't do anything unless you call the police or men in white coats to have a person committed. I just couldn't do that to Tristan. The few times he did try to kill me, I wasn't afraid, I was just majorly creeped out by the look of hatred and fear that kept flashing back and forth in his eyes. He told me later that all he remembered was screaming at the people he saw and heard command him to kill me that he wouldn't. I was never bruised, cut, or anything like that.
Tristan is doing better, and that's really all that matters. And I will take on the world's criticism of me if it means getting him the help he needs to finally get some peace.
Tristan Trivia
Here are a few tidbits of Tristan and his life that will grant some insight into the mind of an intergalactic prince.
-When he was a kid, he wanted to be called "Art".
-His first shoes were ballet slippers.
-He was once mortally wounded from being hit by a spongy rock. Fortunately he came back to life.
-Medication makes him say "leotard".
-He can disarm bombs, but can't jump a car.
-Will jump out of airplanes, but refuses to go on a boat.
-He wanted to grow up to be a muppet.
Okay, to be fair, I'll post some of mine.
-When I was a kid, I wanted to lick postage stamps as an occupation.
-My first shoes went flying across the room.
-I was once blindsided by a Big Bird toy approx. 6 inches big. After 7 stitches I developed a short-lived fear of needles. I replaced it with a fear of staplers.
-I once tried to staple myself to a book.
-I've cut my finger deep with a butter knife.
-I've analyzed crime scene photos for a major government network, but can't find my car keys.
-I wanted to grow up to be Harrison Ford.
-When he was a kid, he wanted to be called "Art".
-His first shoes were ballet slippers.
-He was once mortally wounded from being hit by a spongy rock. Fortunately he came back to life.
-Medication makes him say "leotard".
-He can disarm bombs, but can't jump a car.
-Will jump out of airplanes, but refuses to go on a boat.
-He wanted to grow up to be a muppet.
Okay, to be fair, I'll post some of mine.
-When I was a kid, I wanted to lick postage stamps as an occupation.
-My first shoes went flying across the room.
-I was once blindsided by a Big Bird toy approx. 6 inches big. After 7 stitches I developed a short-lived fear of needles. I replaced it with a fear of staplers.
-I once tried to staple myself to a book.
-I've cut my finger deep with a butter knife.
-I've analyzed crime scene photos for a major government network, but can't find my car keys.
-I wanted to grow up to be Harrison Ford.
3.12.2011
Jekyll vs. Hyde
The first 24-hours of being nice have gone well so far.
Apparently I was soooooo nice and happy, my happiness knocked out the lights in the office. When I went in they turned off, the manager on duty freaked because they NEVER turn off, and the moment I left the room they turned back on.
Weird.
So yeah, I'm on a mission to be nice again. Sweet. Caring. Mainly caring. And censored.
Some people (mainly Tristan) might think I'm only doing this to win him back. I fully acknowledge it's far too late for that. At this point I'm doing it because who I am right now is not who I REALLY am. At some point between high school and now, I started saying what I think and feel. And I can't stop!
It did start with this one girl who kept giving me all these problems with Jake. Overstepping boundaries, gossiping, trying to kiss him, etc. No one stood up for me (okay, no one stood up for me effectively. I did have a few defenders, mainly friends she tried to turn against me, but she ignored them). Finally, I just had it. I snapped. I put my foot down, told her exactly how things will and will not be, and to this day she hates my very existence.
Secretly, I felt way bad about all that. I wanted to be her friend, I was just tired of getting stepped on. But I was still nice to everyone, I still cared about how I came across, I was still sensitive to others' emotions.
Then today, I remembered that "point of no return".
It was the one and only time Jake and I ever went to the gym together. He believed in pain, sweat, tears and blood as the ultimate way to gain strength and lose body fat. I believed in effectiveness, kinetics, fluidness as the ultimate way to get USEFUL muscle definition. Our ideas of the proper exercise format clashed like the Greek titans.
"Oh my gosh, I swear, I am going to punch you in the face!" I growled through gritted teeth. And I wasn't kidding. My fist was clenched and elbow bent for a good, hard left-hook.
"Do it!" Jake grinned this wild, crazy, proud grin and stepped close enough for me to knock him good. "I want you to!"
But I remembered his teeth, how they were wired in from his surgery. One good knock would send them flying out and I'd never forgive myself. Plus, his face was much too handsome to bruise. (Tristan is probably laughing hysterically that I'm even saying I could bruise a tomato since my CURRENT punch is weaker than a feather). I shook my head and sighed.
"You need to sweat if you're ever going to lose all that body fat," Jake chided.
In retrospect I know he was just egging me on, since in recent studies of my photos from then, I looked fantastic. I did not think of this as his words hit my ears. I spun on him and just yelled. "Shut up! Just shut up! I am so sick of your crap!"
"Yessss!" That insane grin got wider. "Yell at me! Come on, get mad!"
I stopped. "What? Why?"
"You're too happy all the time! Like, creepy happy! Do you have any other emotion? You smile through everything and for once, it'd be nice to see you be human!" Jake motioned for me to lift my fist back up and turned his head to the left just enough for a square-on punch. "Let it out! Show me how pissed you are for once in your life!"
I didn't punch him. I just disowned him as my boyfriend until we left the gym and got into the car. He asked if we were dating now that we've exited the building and I just laughed. And I'm pretty sure I hugged him.
And slowly but surely, I started showing the world how truly pissed I was. How disgusted I was with excuses like, "oh we know, everyone knows he's been abusing your sister. There's nothing we can do." How disappointed I was in the hypocrisy of the church, the lies of the honest, the underhandedness of those who called themselves friends. I was so tired of being a doormat. Mira's so sweet, she'll let us say and do anything around her, to her, behind her back.... And I just took Jake's advice. I got mad. I stopped smiling through everything.
I became human.
When the process was at full-speed, when I couldn't even remember what it was like to hide behind a smile and kind words, I met Tristan. And I just let him know EXACTLY what I thought about him and his running around the world in exile, how I felt about everything that happened, what I expected of him and from him. I didn't stop. I couldn't. He wasn't Jake, he was a disappointment, and I made sure to remind him every day.
There were a few times where my old, real self would surface and I'd look in horror at what I'd done. I would apologize to Tristan, sobbing, begging forgiveness and for his love. He gave it, but each time there was a longer waiting period until finally, it just didn't come anymore. And every time, I would try for about a week before giving in to the darkness of the depression that resulted from all the self-pity. I just gave up.
I can't live like this anymore, though. I hate myself. I hate whoever this is spitting out sarcasm, bitterness, judgement, criticism.... And I hate the separation from God the most.
So starting last night I made a goal, an effort to think positively, smile, and talk sweetly. If I make myself believe it, it will be true. And I've done good, so far. When Tristan came in to work today after going out to lunch and informed me that his ex-girlfriend (from before he left the country many years ago, who I have lost Jake and Tristan to at one point or another and who also at some point in high school spread rumors about me but that's still up in the air as to how genuine that intel was) has moved back into town and was his ride/lunch buddy. My immediate internal response was to scream. But I smiled (kinda, I was also preoccupied with a phone call), and said I was glad he was having a good time, and even though he was rushing me to find the house keys and being kind of a jerk about it, I maintained that smile and chanted "be happy" in my head. I then spent the following two hours reminding myself why I LIKE this girl and why I'm not going to plot her demise or feel threatened or remind myself of every moment of utter pain she's ever caused me just by existing.
And you know what? It worked! Mainly because yeah, she's pretty awesome. I've never met her, which was another point to remember before calling her all the names that came to mind. On one hand, she did break Jake's heart. On the other hand, I want to hug her for doing so. Weird, huh? Well, he and the rest of the "Tristan Keller" troop did not comprehend the pain they were causing me until Jake was cheated on by this girl. And as we sat at lunch together and he described to me the pain and torment and heartache.... "Have you ever felt like, you planned your life with someone, and things were so happy, and then suddenly they just rip that away like they don't even care?" Jake asked.
I sat there, blinked, bit back the knowing smile, and waited.
The light of sudden realization clicked on in his head. "Oh. You do, don't you?" He gave me a sheepish smile and busied himself with his fries. "And you probably feel zero remorse or pity for me, huh?"
"Not a drop." I had to smile. Not wickedly, but in comfort. "Look, despite the sheer thrill I'm getting from watching you eat your own medicine, I am very sorry you have to go through this. Despite the relief I feel from you now understanding the hell I've been going through, it's still not something I'd wish on anyone. And I AM here for you."
I'm desperately trying to put myself back into the shoes I was wearing before I even knew about the Organization. Back when I was easy to talk with, when I was someone people WANTED to talk with and share secrets with, back before I knew all the dark little secrets about the world that I know now.
And it's like sex. Once you lose your virginity, you're never a virgin again. You know too much, have experienced too much, and a part of you is both broken and made whole. The craving for more is now embedded in your system, and you either become a sex-crazed fiendish maniac, run from it and join a nunnery, or find a good balance. I lost my "personality innocence" by, well, becoming intimate with knowledge. Information. I hungered, I craved for more. And it destroyed me by turning me into something much less than human.
Apparently I was soooooo nice and happy, my happiness knocked out the lights in the office. When I went in they turned off, the manager on duty freaked because they NEVER turn off, and the moment I left the room they turned back on.
Weird.
So yeah, I'm on a mission to be nice again. Sweet. Caring. Mainly caring. And censored.
Some people (mainly Tristan) might think I'm only doing this to win him back. I fully acknowledge it's far too late for that. At this point I'm doing it because who I am right now is not who I REALLY am. At some point between high school and now, I started saying what I think and feel. And I can't stop!
It did start with this one girl who kept giving me all these problems with Jake. Overstepping boundaries, gossiping, trying to kiss him, etc. No one stood up for me (okay, no one stood up for me effectively. I did have a few defenders, mainly friends she tried to turn against me, but she ignored them). Finally, I just had it. I snapped. I put my foot down, told her exactly how things will and will not be, and to this day she hates my very existence.
Secretly, I felt way bad about all that. I wanted to be her friend, I was just tired of getting stepped on. But I was still nice to everyone, I still cared about how I came across, I was still sensitive to others' emotions.
Then today, I remembered that "point of no return".
It was the one and only time Jake and I ever went to the gym together. He believed in pain, sweat, tears and blood as the ultimate way to gain strength and lose body fat. I believed in effectiveness, kinetics, fluidness as the ultimate way to get USEFUL muscle definition. Our ideas of the proper exercise format clashed like the Greek titans.
"Oh my gosh, I swear, I am going to punch you in the face!" I growled through gritted teeth. And I wasn't kidding. My fist was clenched and elbow bent for a good, hard left-hook.
"Do it!" Jake grinned this wild, crazy, proud grin and stepped close enough for me to knock him good. "I want you to!"
But I remembered his teeth, how they were wired in from his surgery. One good knock would send them flying out and I'd never forgive myself. Plus, his face was much too handsome to bruise. (Tristan is probably laughing hysterically that I'm even saying I could bruise a tomato since my CURRENT punch is weaker than a feather). I shook my head and sighed.
"You need to sweat if you're ever going to lose all that body fat," Jake chided.
In retrospect I know he was just egging me on, since in recent studies of my photos from then, I looked fantastic. I did not think of this as his words hit my ears. I spun on him and just yelled. "Shut up! Just shut up! I am so sick of your crap!"
"Yessss!" That insane grin got wider. "Yell at me! Come on, get mad!"
I stopped. "What? Why?"
"You're too happy all the time! Like, creepy happy! Do you have any other emotion? You smile through everything and for once, it'd be nice to see you be human!" Jake motioned for me to lift my fist back up and turned his head to the left just enough for a square-on punch. "Let it out! Show me how pissed you are for once in your life!"
I didn't punch him. I just disowned him as my boyfriend until we left the gym and got into the car. He asked if we were dating now that we've exited the building and I just laughed. And I'm pretty sure I hugged him.
And slowly but surely, I started showing the world how truly pissed I was. How disgusted I was with excuses like, "oh we know, everyone knows he's been abusing your sister. There's nothing we can do." How disappointed I was in the hypocrisy of the church, the lies of the honest, the underhandedness of those who called themselves friends. I was so tired of being a doormat. Mira's so sweet, she'll let us say and do anything around her, to her, behind her back.... And I just took Jake's advice. I got mad. I stopped smiling through everything.
I became human.
When the process was at full-speed, when I couldn't even remember what it was like to hide behind a smile and kind words, I met Tristan. And I just let him know EXACTLY what I thought about him and his running around the world in exile, how I felt about everything that happened, what I expected of him and from him. I didn't stop. I couldn't. He wasn't Jake, he was a disappointment, and I made sure to remind him every day.
There were a few times where my old, real self would surface and I'd look in horror at what I'd done. I would apologize to Tristan, sobbing, begging forgiveness and for his love. He gave it, but each time there was a longer waiting period until finally, it just didn't come anymore. And every time, I would try for about a week before giving in to the darkness of the depression that resulted from all the self-pity. I just gave up.
I can't live like this anymore, though. I hate myself. I hate whoever this is spitting out sarcasm, bitterness, judgement, criticism.... And I hate the separation from God the most.
So starting last night I made a goal, an effort to think positively, smile, and talk sweetly. If I make myself believe it, it will be true. And I've done good, so far. When Tristan came in to work today after going out to lunch and informed me that his ex-girlfriend (from before he left the country many years ago, who I have lost Jake and Tristan to at one point or another and who also at some point in high school spread rumors about me but that's still up in the air as to how genuine that intel was) has moved back into town and was his ride/lunch buddy. My immediate internal response was to scream. But I smiled (kinda, I was also preoccupied with a phone call), and said I was glad he was having a good time, and even though he was rushing me to find the house keys and being kind of a jerk about it, I maintained that smile and chanted "be happy" in my head. I then spent the following two hours reminding myself why I LIKE this girl and why I'm not going to plot her demise or feel threatened or remind myself of every moment of utter pain she's ever caused me just by existing.
And you know what? It worked! Mainly because yeah, she's pretty awesome. I've never met her, which was another point to remember before calling her all the names that came to mind. On one hand, she did break Jake's heart. On the other hand, I want to hug her for doing so. Weird, huh? Well, he and the rest of the "Tristan Keller" troop did not comprehend the pain they were causing me until Jake was cheated on by this girl. And as we sat at lunch together and he described to me the pain and torment and heartache.... "Have you ever felt like, you planned your life with someone, and things were so happy, and then suddenly they just rip that away like they don't even care?" Jake asked.
I sat there, blinked, bit back the knowing smile, and waited.
The light of sudden realization clicked on in his head. "Oh. You do, don't you?" He gave me a sheepish smile and busied himself with his fries. "And you probably feel zero remorse or pity for me, huh?"
"Not a drop." I had to smile. Not wickedly, but in comfort. "Look, despite the sheer thrill I'm getting from watching you eat your own medicine, I am very sorry you have to go through this. Despite the relief I feel from you now understanding the hell I've been going through, it's still not something I'd wish on anyone. And I AM here for you."
I'm desperately trying to put myself back into the shoes I was wearing before I even knew about the Organization. Back when I was easy to talk with, when I was someone people WANTED to talk with and share secrets with, back before I knew all the dark little secrets about the world that I know now.
And it's like sex. Once you lose your virginity, you're never a virgin again. You know too much, have experienced too much, and a part of you is both broken and made whole. The craving for more is now embedded in your system, and you either become a sex-crazed fiendish maniac, run from it and join a nunnery, or find a good balance. I lost my "personality innocence" by, well, becoming intimate with knowledge. Information. I hungered, I craved for more. And it destroyed me by turning me into something much less than human.
3.09.2011
Fairytale
First therapy session for Tristan was today. Now he finally believes me when I tell him he has schizophrenia, since a professional who never met him before came to that conclusion as well. Never mind that the Organization, our CO, myself, Alex, and anyone else who knows him (excluding his family) told him the same thing for years. But hey, part of recovery is getting over denial.
Tomorrow he gets tested for medication. I asked the therapist (since Tristan wanted me in the session with him) if there was a backup plan just in case the medicine doesn't work. After the therapist bet $100 it will work because medication ALWAYS works because we've advanced in 20 years, I got uneasy about the blatant "no" for the backup plan. I tried imagining Tristan on meds, all happy and not hearing voices or seeing weird things or trying to kill me, and I got weirded out. I told Tristan how I felt about the lack of genuinity the medication coudl create in his personality, but he wants to try it. I want him to be happy, and if medication is how that will happen, then so be it.
Alex and I had a great talk today. Unfortunately, I forgot about Tristan's special ability of being able to see and hear through another person at will. When we came back from my lunch break, and Tristan later came back from his, he told me he heard everything. Including the part where I confessed that I still love him, how I hate his attempts to be gay, and about the visions I'd had years ago before I even met Jake.
"I don't want to raise your hopes up," Tristan said as we marked down products. He was really nice about it and even gave me a smile.
I wanted to laugh, cry and punch him. "Believe me, you're not raising any hopes."
He didn't believe me. He still doesn't. What part of "I have my own thing going on" does he not understand?
I once heard, way back in high school or something, that when a guy swears he doesn't like you but keeps saying you have a huge crush on him, the truth is he does like you and wants you to admit it so he doesn't feel awkward. Sometimes I muse over this as Tristan contradicts himself, but I'm smart enough to know to not get too into the thought. The last time he actually raised my hopes, he was a total jackass about it a month later. What did he expect after kissing me so...thoroughly? A thank-you note?
I do have my own thing going on. At least, I'm trying to. The fact that he lives in Australia and is currently in Turkey does not help. I've known Aaron for years now, and we've attempted a long-distance relationship but it got soooooo difficult trying to contact each other all the time. I refuse to be in another relationship with him until he comes to America, and that's never going to happen. Even if he gets plane tickets and reserves room and transportation, he won't come. Why?
Because God has different plans with which I disagree.
Contrary to popular belief, mainly Tristan's, I DON'T want to love him. To love Tristan is to feel the most horrible pain. To love Tristan is to be the epic failure in a would-be fairytale. I'm not a lost princess who found her prince and lived happily ever after. I'm a lost princess who found her prince who doesn't want her because he'd rather stick with what he knows and refuses to explore the unknown.
Sometimes....sometimes I can't help but think I'm not the only epic failure in this would-be fairytale. But then I realize that's not entirely fair, because this prince who was once a great warrior and protector is now cursed and lives a very lonely, terrifying life of mental instability. So yet again, the epic failure is the princess, who despite loving him and doing everything she can to show and live her love, cannot break his curse with a kiss, and if she can't break his, then he can't break hers. So they live together as companions always wishing for more than a cursed life but always fighting each other so they don't give in to the one weakness that can make them strong.
Sounds melodramatic, but that's life in a nutshell. I want so much to be with Aaron, which, if I'm to be honest, is because he's the better way out. He's a loophole in the story. He can be an alternate prince who comes in and saves the day for the princess by giving her everything she ever wanted.
"If you got everything you wanted, then you'd never want anything you got." Sadly, this snippet of truth is from Homer Simpson.
So I know Aaron will not come to America and we will not live happily ever after. It's too easy, I'd get everything I've ever wanted, and I'd be even more miserable than I am now. I mean, let's say hypothetically that things did work out. How do I explain the children I birth who have special abilities?
Aaron, like every other man who's ever expressed interest in me (and admittedly, that list is actually quite longer than one would think), is a Second-human gazing upon a Goran half-breed with admiration and curiosity towards the mystique of my genetics (aka looks, smells, etc). Tristan is a Goran who is unaffected by pheromones, recognizes one of his own kind, and sees me as I am. If another guy says I'm beautiful, I know it's a compliment laced with hormones. If Tristan says I look beautiful, it's because I do.
See the problem? I tell Tristan all the time that I just need to find another Goran half-breed so we can all be happy. I'd have someone who understands my inner emotions (a Second-human trait that confounds the intellectual minds of Gorans), said male would be mostly unaffected by the glamour, and Tristan wouldn't have to put so much effort into making sure I stay arm's length away.
But then the inner voice that is reason and instinct asks me who do I think I'm kidding. It would never be enough, would never feel right, would go against everything this story has been building up to. And what has it been building up to? I have no freaking clue, but it's big. It's something unexpected, something deep, and something very very good.
I'm just pretty sure it's not that happy-ever-after.
Tomorrow he gets tested for medication. I asked the therapist (since Tristan wanted me in the session with him) if there was a backup plan just in case the medicine doesn't work. After the therapist bet $100 it will work because medication ALWAYS works because we've advanced in 20 years, I got uneasy about the blatant "no" for the backup plan. I tried imagining Tristan on meds, all happy and not hearing voices or seeing weird things or trying to kill me, and I got weirded out. I told Tristan how I felt about the lack of genuinity the medication coudl create in his personality, but he wants to try it. I want him to be happy, and if medication is how that will happen, then so be it.
Alex and I had a great talk today. Unfortunately, I forgot about Tristan's special ability of being able to see and hear through another person at will. When we came back from my lunch break, and Tristan later came back from his, he told me he heard everything. Including the part where I confessed that I still love him, how I hate his attempts to be gay, and about the visions I'd had years ago before I even met Jake.
"I don't want to raise your hopes up," Tristan said as we marked down products. He was really nice about it and even gave me a smile.
I wanted to laugh, cry and punch him. "Believe me, you're not raising any hopes."
He didn't believe me. He still doesn't. What part of "I have my own thing going on" does he not understand?
I once heard, way back in high school or something, that when a guy swears he doesn't like you but keeps saying you have a huge crush on him, the truth is he does like you and wants you to admit it so he doesn't feel awkward. Sometimes I muse over this as Tristan contradicts himself, but I'm smart enough to know to not get too into the thought. The last time he actually raised my hopes, he was a total jackass about it a month later. What did he expect after kissing me so...thoroughly? A thank-you note?
I do have my own thing going on. At least, I'm trying to. The fact that he lives in Australia and is currently in Turkey does not help. I've known Aaron for years now, and we've attempted a long-distance relationship but it got soooooo difficult trying to contact each other all the time. I refuse to be in another relationship with him until he comes to America, and that's never going to happen. Even if he gets plane tickets and reserves room and transportation, he won't come. Why?
Because God has different plans with which I disagree.
Contrary to popular belief, mainly Tristan's, I DON'T want to love him. To love Tristan is to feel the most horrible pain. To love Tristan is to be the epic failure in a would-be fairytale. I'm not a lost princess who found her prince and lived happily ever after. I'm a lost princess who found her prince who doesn't want her because he'd rather stick with what he knows and refuses to explore the unknown.
Sometimes....sometimes I can't help but think I'm not the only epic failure in this would-be fairytale. But then I realize that's not entirely fair, because this prince who was once a great warrior and protector is now cursed and lives a very lonely, terrifying life of mental instability. So yet again, the epic failure is the princess, who despite loving him and doing everything she can to show and live her love, cannot break his curse with a kiss, and if she can't break his, then he can't break hers. So they live together as companions always wishing for more than a cursed life but always fighting each other so they don't give in to the one weakness that can make them strong.
Sounds melodramatic, but that's life in a nutshell. I want so much to be with Aaron, which, if I'm to be honest, is because he's the better way out. He's a loophole in the story. He can be an alternate prince who comes in and saves the day for the princess by giving her everything she ever wanted.
"If you got everything you wanted, then you'd never want anything you got." Sadly, this snippet of truth is from Homer Simpson.
So I know Aaron will not come to America and we will not live happily ever after. It's too easy, I'd get everything I've ever wanted, and I'd be even more miserable than I am now. I mean, let's say hypothetically that things did work out. How do I explain the children I birth who have special abilities?
Aaron, like every other man who's ever expressed interest in me (and admittedly, that list is actually quite longer than one would think), is a Second-human gazing upon a Goran half-breed with admiration and curiosity towards the mystique of my genetics (aka looks, smells, etc). Tristan is a Goran who is unaffected by pheromones, recognizes one of his own kind, and sees me as I am. If another guy says I'm beautiful, I know it's a compliment laced with hormones. If Tristan says I look beautiful, it's because I do.
See the problem? I tell Tristan all the time that I just need to find another Goran half-breed so we can all be happy. I'd have someone who understands my inner emotions (a Second-human trait that confounds the intellectual minds of Gorans), said male would be mostly unaffected by the glamour, and Tristan wouldn't have to put so much effort into making sure I stay arm's length away.
But then the inner voice that is reason and instinct asks me who do I think I'm kidding. It would never be enough, would never feel right, would go against everything this story has been building up to. And what has it been building up to? I have no freaking clue, but it's big. It's something unexpected, something deep, and something very very good.
I'm just pretty sure it's not that happy-ever-after.
3.04.2011
Assumptions
After perusing through the internet, chatting with enthusiasts and reading up on/watching documentaries and research, Tristan and I have come to a conclusion.
Humans, as a species (and we do readily include ourselves in this), crave difficulty. If something is too simple for our expectations, we tend to not believe it.
Humans evacuating Mars and settling on Earth, gradually forming a whole new population and "world within a world" is too hard to believe because it makes sense. Contact between colonies in space and settlers on the ground is so realistic of an explanation for ancient myths, we shy away from it. 3% of a difference in brain matter usage is far too small of a genetic difference to reconcile "superhuman" abilities in the Goran race.
But it's true.
I am becoming increasingly irritated with this whole "Spiritual Truth", "Ethereal Light", "Implanted Soul", "Rainbow Child" etc etc idealism and theorizing spreading in UFO investigative circles. Of course people want spiritual truth. What is the Truth? God is God, we are not, and by forgetting that fact we create all the problems we have to deal with. He gives us a gazillion chances and always will, and we take and take and ignore, and always will. Whether this is true for all species has yet to be seen, but I'm not putting it past Him to be loving and merciful to all. God knows (haha pun totally intended) we're as stubborn as mules and just as prideful, and yet here we are, still with free choice and open running space.
So what is with all this "orbs of light and energy" junk? I asked someone, very seriously, how they met the alien they claimed they talked with. The very serious answer? "In a dream state". After a heated discussion over how not all aliens are floating orbs of light (my side) and he wouldn't believe an alien if it punched him in the face because aliens are not physical beings (his side), I felt like weeping for our species. And punching him, just to prove a point.
Tristan is not from our planet. And I can, and do, very easily slap him. I don't beat the living daylights out of him, but apparently I have enough nonexistent upper-body strength for him to take my random slaps and blow to the arm. He is not some floating ball of light, although sometimes after a visit with a local burrito chain he can be a floating ball of gas...... I am a half-breed, not some implanted soul. I had to learn how to walk and talk and drink from a sippy-cup not because it was a new culture, but because I was a KID. A very human, very physical, very klutzy kid.
Tristan is the prince of the Goran nation. He went to grade school, had a puppy, learned how to drive a car, went through puberty, got the birds-and-the-bees talk from his parents.... And even in his early childhood with his birth parents on a colony ship floating somewhere by Earth, he was a normal human kid. He didn't like taking naps. He went on walks with his mother. He was potty trained. He ate off plates and used utensils and even if they were made of different materials with different functions (I will talk about the temperature-controlled tableware sometime later), the concept is the same as using a fork and knife on your every day Corelle. He went to daycare, played house with other kids, learned games, listened to lullabyes, tripped over his own feet.... Is this at all thought of when people think of extra-terrestrial beings?
No.
I'm frustrated. Tristan's frustrated. We're just flat-out worried. If Second-Humans on Earth want to believe the Greys (yes, the little grey men with almond eyes, big heads and long arms that are really short) over their own species, then this world is effed. And why would an entire planet's intelligent population believe a sinister group that shies away from mention of God? Because it's what is expected. No one would believe an entire colony of humans who have never set foot on Earth and have some spiritual/religious affiliations similar to our modern monotheistic establishments. According to a recent article I read (http://www.welcomethelight.com/2010/01/beth-history-of-the-negative-ets/#comment-18542), the humans who did come to warn about the Greys had to be time travelers from the future.
On a side note, this article is AWESOME. While Tristan and I are conferring over what is fact and what is "blurry vision", it does correlate with a LOT of what we already knew about the Gorans, Greys and Reptilians. I am in no way bashing the author(s), for I commend their fantastic composition and all-out openness about a subject they do have much knowledge on.
Again, my concern is the conglomeration of species.
This is like saying Paul Revere was a British Loyalist hell-bent on keeping the monarchy.
Humans, as a species (and we do readily include ourselves in this), crave difficulty. If something is too simple for our expectations, we tend to not believe it.
Humans evacuating Mars and settling on Earth, gradually forming a whole new population and "world within a world" is too hard to believe because it makes sense. Contact between colonies in space and settlers on the ground is so realistic of an explanation for ancient myths, we shy away from it. 3% of a difference in brain matter usage is far too small of a genetic difference to reconcile "superhuman" abilities in the Goran race.
But it's true.
I am becoming increasingly irritated with this whole "Spiritual Truth", "Ethereal Light", "Implanted Soul", "Rainbow Child" etc etc idealism and theorizing spreading in UFO investigative circles. Of course people want spiritual truth. What is the Truth? God is God, we are not, and by forgetting that fact we create all the problems we have to deal with. He gives us a gazillion chances and always will, and we take and take and ignore, and always will. Whether this is true for all species has yet to be seen, but I'm not putting it past Him to be loving and merciful to all. God knows (haha pun totally intended) we're as stubborn as mules and just as prideful, and yet here we are, still with free choice and open running space.
So what is with all this "orbs of light and energy" junk? I asked someone, very seriously, how they met the alien they claimed they talked with. The very serious answer? "In a dream state". After a heated discussion over how not all aliens are floating orbs of light (my side) and he wouldn't believe an alien if it punched him in the face because aliens are not physical beings (his side), I felt like weeping for our species. And punching him, just to prove a point.
Tristan is not from our planet. And I can, and do, very easily slap him. I don't beat the living daylights out of him, but apparently I have enough nonexistent upper-body strength for him to take my random slaps and blow to the arm. He is not some floating ball of light, although sometimes after a visit with a local burrito chain he can be a floating ball of gas...... I am a half-breed, not some implanted soul. I had to learn how to walk and talk and drink from a sippy-cup not because it was a new culture, but because I was a KID. A very human, very physical, very klutzy kid.
Tristan is the prince of the Goran nation. He went to grade school, had a puppy, learned how to drive a car, went through puberty, got the birds-and-the-bees talk from his parents.... And even in his early childhood with his birth parents on a colony ship floating somewhere by Earth, he was a normal human kid. He didn't like taking naps. He went on walks with his mother. He was potty trained. He ate off plates and used utensils and even if they were made of different materials with different functions (I will talk about the temperature-controlled tableware sometime later), the concept is the same as using a fork and knife on your every day Corelle. He went to daycare, played house with other kids, learned games, listened to lullabyes, tripped over his own feet.... Is this at all thought of when people think of extra-terrestrial beings?
No.
I'm frustrated. Tristan's frustrated. We're just flat-out worried. If Second-Humans on Earth want to believe the Greys (yes, the little grey men with almond eyes, big heads and long arms that are really short) over their own species, then this world is effed. And why would an entire planet's intelligent population believe a sinister group that shies away from mention of God? Because it's what is expected. No one would believe an entire colony of humans who have never set foot on Earth and have some spiritual/religious affiliations similar to our modern monotheistic establishments. According to a recent article I read (http://www.welcomethelight.com/2010/01/beth-history-of-the-negative-ets/#comment-18542), the humans who did come to warn about the Greys had to be time travelers from the future.
On a side note, this article is AWESOME. While Tristan and I are conferring over what is fact and what is "blurry vision", it does correlate with a LOT of what we already knew about the Gorans, Greys and Reptilians. I am in no way bashing the author(s), for I commend their fantastic composition and all-out openness about a subject they do have much knowledge on.
Again, my concern is the conglomeration of species.
"A race of human ETs landed at Homestead Air Force Base in Florida, and successfully communicated with the US. Government. This group warned us of the Greys that were orbiting the equator. They were warning us of the ‘Greys’, and a reptilian extraterrestrial race from Orion. The reptilian race have a reptilian looking head with a human looking physical body.
The Galactic Federation offered to help us with all our technological and spiritual problems, however they had a requirement. They demanded that we dismantle and destroy our nuclear weapons. Our Secret Government refused. A third landing occurred at Edwards Air Force Base in 1954. The base was closed for three days and no one was allowed to enter or leave during that time. Eisenhower arranged to be in Palm Springs on vacation. On the appointed day he was spirited off to the base. The excuse was given to the press that he was visiting a dentist. Five UFO craft landed, and Eisenhower met with the ETs. All these landings were filmed. This alien group again was from Zeta Reticuli. During this time, the Galactic Federation was trying to help, but the Secret Government refused to end the proliferation of Nuclear Weapons. The Cabal, those human looking ETs from the future, the Fallen Angels, had no intention of giving up their power and control of Earth. They were interested in not only conquering Earth, but many other Planets as well. "
This is like saying Paul Revere was a British Loyalist hell-bent on keeping the monarchy.
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