Note: This is a tale of happenings on the night of the 10th of April, 2010. It is IC. If you cannot keep the knowledge you learn here OC, then DO NOT READ THIS

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So Morgan's GChat message said "I will invent the indestructible kitten."

me: What? How can you build an indestructible kitten? Aren't they already?

morphine482: Not entirely.
I want bulletproof kittens. I wanna be able to cover my vest in D'aww and have semi trailers bounce off of it.

me: LMAO!
that's an amazing idea.

morphine482: I swear I'll do it in Mage. :P
Life magic.

me: snrk creative and indestructible on so many levels.
Sent at 10:10 AM on Friday

morphine482: cackle
SCIENCE!!

So Robyn and I were having a discussion about prints of animal art and that inevitably led to animal t-shirts.

( An overused cliche - the quintessential wolf t-shirt )

Dear Jacob,

I know you're out there. In Flint, I suspect, but I could be wrong.

I wonder about you. I wonder if you've grown up happy, or if you're morose and troubled (For the record, I can be morose and troubled, too, but I might be in a more stable situation). I hope you're happy, but I doubt it. Considering some of the mindgames you've been subjected to, I doubt it. Remember, I know the family too.

It's the family I never see, the father I never talk about. He's incredibly smart, well-spoken, and amazingly artistic. But he's got demons. I know it, and you must know it by now as well. I can only wonder how you deal with it.

The last time I saw you, you were around six months old. You were a happy baby, and so beautiful.

I'm sure this letter, should you ever read it, will make you angry. Ah well, be that as it may, it won't shut me up. Why should it? We don't really know each other. I won't lie and pretend things ended up all wine and roses. I won't mince words. What I do speculate could be way off, but I'm imagining that you don't have any reason to have a fond reaction towards me - the older sister, a stranger, who just up and disappeared from everyone's lives. I have my reasons.

No, my mother did not coerce me not to contact him, or you, or your mother. I am 37 years old, Jacob. I have made up my own mind. Perhaps your situation can work for you, but it can never work for me, and I admitted that to myself years old. Painful? A little, but not nearly as painful as it would have been if I'd kept in contact. Ultimately, we're all responsible for our own lives and sanity.

But enough about that. I'm almost positive that you're exceptionally intelligent and creative, just like your father. I'm sure you have a lot of passion, and that's good, if you can balance it out. I know you will graduate from high school next spring, and I wonder what your plans are.

I saw that you are on Facebook, but I didn't try to friend you. What would I say? Dear Jacob, I'm your sister, sorry about the seventeen years? Yeah, I don't think so. Or maybe Dear Jacob, I'm your sister and wonder if you've got a drug habit beyond marijuana yet? Tasteful, don't you think? I thought so. Or perhaps the bare bones of it is: Dear Jacob, I'm your sister. Who are you?

Regardless, I don't think you'd welcome any of those messages, so why send them? If you want to find me, you will. If you don't, then you don't. It's as simple as that.

So I write to you here, spilling out my thoughts to no one involved for my own edification. I doubt I'll ever stop wondering about you. Whatever happens, I wish you luck and the courage to do that which is best for you.

Emily.

P.S. Please do not write me defending our father, should the idea occur. There is no point to it.

P.P.S. I would like to know you, I think, someday.

A patron just brought back her library card, because she thought she had to return it. I said "No, it's yours forever and ever."

"Oh," she said, "So what was I supposed to return in three weeks?"

"Your BOOKS, ma'am. You have to return the books to us. Not the card."

"Oh," she said, and walked away.

Em.

(12:56:52 PM) Em: I have something very important to tell you.

(12:57:03 PM) Robyn: what is that?

( Very Important! )

When I was a little kid, my psychotic father once screamed at me and upset me so much that later, in the social worker's office, I told them what happened and then I never had to see him again. I couldn't tell you exactly what happened now, either, because I don't remember. I just remember feeling destroyed and an impotent rage.

I don't think that it's that I never forgave him. I don't actually think of him all that much anymore. I don't feel much either way for him. But perhaps it is the incident itself I never forgave. Like any other strong experience, it shaped me. Then again, maybe I didn't forgive him...I tend to second guess my own motives often.

Good old Nietzsche had it right in some ways. But while it might make one stronger, don't traumatic patterns sometimes also lead you into the same situations and thoughts that you strive to break free of?

I am not a believer that a person can change the fundamental nature of his or her own being, formed in childhood and earlier. I do not believe you can change your soul. It can be shaped throughout one's life, but I feel like the core being is always a constant.

So, then, am I damned to fall prey to wrath time and again? I try to let it go, but if that ever happens, it takes years to get over whatever I was so enraged about in the first place. I'm not kidding. YEARS. As in, double digits.

Meditation doesn't help. Listening to people tell me that it's a choice doesn't help. Intellectually, I see the sense in these words of wisdom, but at the same time, how does one convince one's deepest being of something like that? Or perhaps on some level, I don't want to change my nature, which would make it my nature not to change. You see the circular rhetoric?

A mass email between myself, Steve, Robyn, Justin, and Amy.

When I cut and pasted it into a Word document, for whatever reason, it split up sentences like poetry -- so I left it that way. I kind of like it like that.

( If I Could Relate to Human Beings, What Kind of Person Would I Be? )

Katie: I HAVEN'T SEEN LOST YET
SHHHHHHH

(9:58am) Emily: ah. well, it'll make you mad

(9:58am) Katie: figures

(10:00am) Emily: an explosive cliffhanger, for sure!! it's two hours

(10:01:28 AM) Katie: i wouldn't expect anything else!

(10:01:38 AM) Em: next season is the last one!

(10:02:08 AM) Katie: shoot really?!

(10:02:16 AM) Katie: i guess we can all move on with our lives then

(10:04:39 AM) Em: I know. It makes me sad.

(10:29:04 AM) Katie: me too actually haha

He's a beautiful boy. He's 18 years old (Amazons can live up to 80 years), and I love him. He likes other birds, so Guapo will have someone his size to play with.

And to think, some bird owners can't even handle one bird. Heh. Now I have three wonderful boys.