Emeralds

Just watched The Terminator and Terminator 2. There was a street party, and I really didn't want to have to be around people. I guess I should be more social, but still. My mother in particular seems disappointed that I didn't want to go out. What can I say? I have no place in a group of middle-ages and smallchilds. Even if I collected with the small group of teens, what's there to say? "Hey, we're normal and don't know you." "Hey. I sound like a complete nutcase but really I'm a nice guy." "I'm sorry, you're so quiet and socially inept that we can't hear you over the sound of people enjoying themselves." Exaggeration. I've been reading Parrotfish. It shows.

People seem to approach things at around a thirty-degree angle. Just dodging the actual issue ever so slightly while still getting your point across. It's something I've never been able to get the hang of. I either scuttle across things sideways or approach it head-on, nothing in between. I guess it's because I've been talking to myself so long, my style of communication has shifted. I don't infer the same things from certain words as others. Leads to a lot of problems that way. Oh well. I try. Maybe it will get better in time.

I've seen the future, you know. Or at least, what for want of a better word you might call the future. I've seen the place where I die, a little under three years from now. I think it's a courtyard. There are trees. Details are sketchy, but I'll know it when I see it. I've seen my daughter. She has brown hair and pink skin and a smile. Her eyes are chameleonic, like mine, but they sparkle like her mother's. I recognize that this is a contradiction; if I die I will never be a father. Just because the future is set doesn't mean it can't be changed. We can only predict the forks in the road, not the direction we will choose. That's something that's left to each of us.

I have work to do. Sigh. End of school year. Repeated sigh.

Examine the World model. On the surface, a hard shell. Painted over in bright colours. In some places peaceful, in some places hostile, in some places, broken, all covering up what lies underneath. Slip through the cracks and you'll find that this carefully constructed surface is very, very thin. Underneath, the majority is made up of something dark and molten; seething, churning, ever so silent. Hot and cold are indistinguishable. Massive, glass-sharp shards of something drift through. In the very center, pressure has fused together something harder than diamond. The Sapphire, the Opal and the Ruby. Clear, incandescent and shining.
Whatever. It's just a model, don't take it literally.

I feel very young again. I'm being all, "Eeeh, does she like me?" I don't even mean it in a romantic sense. Absurd. I hope I don't have to rip out my heart with a corkscrew again. I get so sick of people. I'm very tired.

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