but isn't it nice when we're all afraid at the same time?

Waking in the wee hours to news of another death, and not even one of mine. Following it down in a winding spiral to a song from AFP. Ten minutes of beauty. Ten minutes of devastation. Five minutes of tears that I fought against shedding, because this loss, on top of other losses, too many deaths in this year already, and the year before, and the year before that...

everyone's too scared to open their eyes up
but everyone's too scared to close them

And what do I have to top that, really? A changed body, a changed brain, a changed perspective. Growing fearful where before I was--well, if not fearless, then certainly stoic, and still looking forward instead of back.



"And it's a ride," Amanda sings. "It's just a ride..." That it is. Life, experience, love, that's all it is. Partnering so we have someone's hand to hold, teetering at the crest. Sitting with family, created, acquired, growing, introducing them to the concept of safe fear, because we know it will help them process real fear, later.

Same principle behind horror media, really.

everyone's reading the rules of engagement
and everyone's starting to doubt them
everyone's reaching to put on a seatbelt
but this kind of ride comes without them

I'm remembering one episode of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, where he came in from Outside, removing his work coat and his work shoes, exchanging them for his softer cardigan, slipping his feet into more comfortable sneakers, and preparing the lesson for the day. All the little routines viewers had become accustomed to--the door opening, his easy, guileless smile, the short walk down the short stairs. It was ritual, in a way, practiced to give his audience time to unwind with him, become open to his next words.



The episode I'm thinking of, though, is sadly one they no longer run in syndication. Because in this one, near the end of all the calm routines, when he raises the top of the aquarium to feed the fish--he finds one of the fish has passed. Floating belly-up, its small fins no longer moving, its gold-scaled body no longer swimming in idle loops around the tank.

And it's a small, quick moment, expressed in microcosm: his eyes subtly shifting, his shoulders tensing, then relaxing. Nothing a child viewer would catch, even, though rewatching that episode as an adult, I see the signs more clearly. Thrown--just for a moment, a handful of quick seconds--before he pulls back to teacher mode. Finding the best path to turn this into education, pitched in ways his viewers would best understand. And whatever the lesson was going to be, it was set aside for the lesson he had on hand: telling children across the country about what death is, what death really means. That it's nothing to fear; that it's okay to feel things about it. That our emotions, as children, sometimes feel very big, and very scary, but that that was okay, too. Death was just a thing that happened, to all of us. Death was a natural departure in this case, and accepting that was part of life, too.

It's just a ride. And we've got the choice to get off any time that we like...



It is the great equalizer, after all. The commonality of death. The universal experience we'll all have at some point.

Right?

everyone's trying to stay on the side
where the water's just boiling more slowly
frogs in a pot, well that's one thing I've got
at least some of the frogs in here know me

It's not a comforting song. It wavers, ever so slightly, an off-balance calliope, making music for whomever's listening in the shadows...or maybe for the shadows themselves. Her voice breaks at times, the pain in the chords palpable.

And it's not the first time I've heard it, I've had this album, There Will Be No Intermission, for years now. But reading on her latest loss, while listening to this song...it sank deeper this morning. The lightest touch of midnight's chill gracing air already warming, the beginning days of May already lurching towards summer's thick, leaden heat, and I'm reminded yet again of the cyclical nature of loss.

I want you to think of me sitting and singing beside you
the chain pulls us up and we know that we're all gonna dive

And stupidly, pointlessly, thinking on my own. Because it's not in the same league, is it? I'm alive. The world hasn't done me in, yet. That's acres away from mourning an entire person. And yet...ringing the changes. Because there *have* been changes. Six hundred and fifty-plus days, now, with the headache that never leaves me. I'm less sure, now, on the other side of that. Less brave on the other side of that. Definitely, after these months, cascading through a year and still going, less stable on the other side of that...

Possibly more stubborn. But at this point stubbornness is a feature, not a bug.

But we all go down, yes, and we all go down...and see what the ride's made us into, this time.

I want you to think of me sitting and singing beside you
I wish we could meet all the people who got left behind
the ride is so loud it can make you think no one is listening
but isn't it nice when we all can cry at the same time?

But what else do we have, really? What choice do we have? Isolate, or integrate; pull back or push forward. Strengthen our relationships, or let them slip away.

and as we switch from side to side
everything is gonna be just fine
everyone you love is gonna die...

Yeah. Whether you believe in heaven, or reincarnation, in nothingness or continuation, this is all we have. This, right here, right now. Ride's gonna stop sometime, so until then, we make the best of the ups and downs, the scary descents and the link-by-link ennui of elevation. And we can make the choice to be happy in those around us, knowing that they're in the same place, in cars ahead or cars behind. Maybe we'll walk out with them hand in hand. Maybe we'll never see them again.

It's up to us to do the good in the world that we can, because everyone's just trying to hang on for the next drop.

the alternative's nothingness
might as well give it a try...

What have we got to lose, after all? It's just a ride.

to the sounds of a bleeding ghost train

[19:14] Nixy (phoenix.milasevic) hands Temp a potato.
[19:14] Tempest Rage (tempest.heartsdale): BANANA
[19:14] Nixy (phoenix.milasevic): POTATO
[19:15] Tempest Rage (tempest.heartsdale): *buries Nixy* I SAID BANANA
[19:15] Emilly Orr: that escalated quickly

Twisted Hunt group. It's like that.

So, I finally came up with an idea for next month's NaNoWriMo writing challenge. It may even work, but I fear it's going to carve my soul into sections again. Still, it's nice to have a plan. It's nice to know that I'm going to be writing more, that I've crawled through at least that one, small bit of depression back to (some level of) functionality. It's a small thing, but I'll take it.

That's also been the (unseen by the public, mostly) push to get the blog more towards daily updates again. Still not there yet (though, currently, that's mostly due to picture-editing for haunt entries), but it's better than it was. Again, small things, small steps, but they're still steps forward.

In the meantime, group controversy, yet again:

[19:56] lxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx:

mandar a roupa para fotografa

[ღ leaving the little hearts in bracing the avatar's long display name ღ]

ate dia 21

vc escolhe oque vc quer divugar na revista
[19:57] vxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: O,o
[19:57] axxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: omg alexya não pode spam no grupo
[19:57] axxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ler as regras por favor

Now, Miss A's answer was pretty perfect--essentially, responding in Portuguese to please check the group rules, and please don't spam the group. Fair enough. I'm thinking this whole thing was a wrong window, though, because what Miss ღ-L is saying basically translates to, 'please send me clothing until the 21st, so I may pick outfits for the magazine'--which makes zero sense in a freebie group.

[19:59] lxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: not a clue
[19:59] Axxxxx Rxxxxxxxx: omg must be the same in any language
[19:59] lxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: spam is spam? lol
[20:02] vxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: spam shouldnt be spam in foreugn, should be oh... spamio or something

Clue massive facepalming. "Spamio"?? Seriously?? Let's hear it for garden-variety casual racism. And the inability to spell "foreign" correctly.

[20:03] Axxxxx Rxxxxxxxx: le spam? el spamo grande?
[20:03] lxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: laughs now i want a taco bel grande

I can't tell if that's more casual racism or fast food addiction. Maybe it's both.

[20:04] vxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: el spamo grande... lol thats good
[20:04] 7xxxx Rxxxxxxx: LOL me too
[20:04] 7xxxx Rxxxxxxx: I think all the world has given up translating all the new puter terms

Um. "Spam" is a new computer term??? Since when?

Cue mass confusion on my part, but hey, I have pumpkin cookies, so you know, I can let this slide.

think of loved ones as we gather near

[20:23] Rebecca Rhiannyr: merry christmas!
[20:29] Clover Dezno: merry Christmas!
[20:29] Gabrielle Anatra (gabriell.anatra): Merry Christmas everyone.
[20:45] Rebecca Rhiannyr: merry merry gabrielle and clover!
[20:48] Emilly Orr: For a moment, I thought that was your actual holiday wish, and I was trying to figure out where clover came into a winter holiday. :p

I am choosing to leave the names in for two reasons: first, no one's airing an even slightly controversial opinion here, and second, it makes the confusion make more sense. :p



Next, this is my favorite holiday song I've heard this year. It has wronged its way into my heart quite thoroughly. Of course, it narrowly pushes out Joshua Hyslop's Winter's Night, an earlier find this year. Which pushed out Will Yate's 'The Snowpocalypse" (find it here, in the 2009 compilation of songs) as the Best Holiday Song Evar.

I go through a lot of holiday songs.

Anyway, I was supposed to post this on the 25th, so it's going up on the 25th, but I actually got back to this on December 28th at 1:48 am. Just, y'know, for accuracy. Or something.

Merry whatever.