New York

So, many of you know I’m going to New York for a weekend of skepticism and sexy women in about three hours. Many of you were expecting me to write something up before I left. I have to apologize to JanieBelle and to A, about that. This week, interference with my writing plans constantly arose from all directions. You all know my weakness for pretty girls, so blame Rebecca (different Rebecca), Sabrina, Sam (different Sam), Rachel, and Kate (different Kate) for my inability to spent my sleepless nights writing this week. Everyone seemed to need to say goodbye before I left for some reason. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they had some sort of suspicion that I might not be coming back. Where they would arrive at the idea that I’d travel off somewhere, forget to come back, and wind up essentially living in the place I had meant to visit is beyond me. I mean, I haven’t done that more than a dozen times so far in my life, I think… Give or take a few.

Anyway, I suppose I have quite a fair chunk of writing to do next week, no matter where I happen to be located physically at the time. I think I technically owe A double, one for this week and one for what I was supposed to write next week anyway. A, you’re lucky you’re so pretty, smart, entertaining, and all-around sexy, otherwise I might view it all as a chore instead of feeling like I owe you for going to NY this weekend instead of San Diego. Hope you’re having a good time at Comic Con, and tell Phil I said thanks for everything… Also, the request for pics of him raising a glass in my name still stands.

Anyway, I won’t promise to come back from NY with pics, partly because I can’t promise to come back, but mostly because I know myself too well to think I’m likely to remember to take pictures. I’ve a long and glorious history of being far too caught up in the moment to take photographs, and I don’t expect that to change in the near future. Now, I’m off to finish packing, I was putting off doing it… and it worked.

Number 11

For 15 more minutes, today is the anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Some of my idiot acquaintances do not believe this, but rest assured, it DID happen. I could go on and on at great length about why it was not and could not have been faked. I speak for ages on the import of space travel, and why we MUST seek the stars. I won’t be doing that. I’ve done so many times before, and will many times again, I’m sure. Right now, there’s something else I’d rather do to commemorate this momentous occasion, this most important of all human achievements…

I’m going to step outside, and look up at the moon.

Dark Knight

Full review below the fold

So A over at SkepChick (hugs and kisses) has told me that I need to write something, and since I fail utterly at denying pretty girls, here I am.

The last week has been very difficult for me, in no small part because of how often I feel like I have to pretend to be fine for the benefit of others. People are used to seeing me as a font of energy, of a sort of seize-the-day, continuous joy kind of person. “Live every day like it’s your last” I say constantly, and who wants to spend their last day mourning? Honestly, some days, I do. Some days, the only thing that keeps me going, the one part of my life I find bearable, is that it’s nearly he end. If I really believed that I’d have to deal with this for years upon years into the future, I don’t know that I could handle it.

I have friends, and they try to cheer me up, but they don’t really know what they’re doing. They mean well, but it doesn’t help. I came here back in January because here is where the one person who truly REALLY knew me would be. The one person, of all my friends, all my loved ones, who understood who I am and could help me through the bad times I knew would be coming… I came here because Jenny could help. So who can help me deal with losing Jenny?

If you’re wondering, perhaps, why you don’t see the people I know in person floating around here, that’s why. This is a part of me they’re not used to seeing, and not comfortable with… Well, that, and I didn’t exactly spread it around too much. There are far too many people in my life, as in everyone’s life, who think they know better than I do what I should do, and even in times like this, I couldn’t trust them not to go running around telling everyone, and thereby getting word back to my Dove.

So here I am, alone in a crowd, with a fake smile painted on my face, pretending to care about the worthless little details, and playing the merry jester for people who need that from me because they can’t seem to live their own lives the way they wish they could… It makes me wonder, when I am gone, who will mourn for the Rystefn.. and who will mourn for me.

How to remember

Have you ever loved someone, but did not get along with their family? Most of us have to some degree or another. We go to family gatherings and try to be civil out of respect for our loved one, but we just don’t like that certain relative. It is Jenny’s mother in this case. We have never seen eye to eye on a great many issues, and she certainly never approved of me introducing her daughter into my world. She was a good Catholic girl before we met, the way I hear it. My lifestyle, my friends, my music, my philosophy and belief system, all corrupted her little girl…

Sometimes it takes a tragedy for people to see what they hold in common. Last week, we didn’t get along. Next week, we may not get along again. Today, though, we were the same. United in love and loss, we finally saw in each other what Jenny had seen in us all along. Anyone who loves so much… so fully… Whatever she feared from me, she only ever wished the best for her daughter, and that makes her a good person in my eyes.

I don’t do well at funerals. I hate them with a passion, in point of fact. This one no less so. Her family did what they do in these situations, what they thought best. Tasteful, respectful, solemn and appropriate. I think they would not approve of the service I’m holding tonight, but I think Jenny would. So now I’m off, to remember her the way I want to be remembered: strong, vibrant, joyous. Alive.

We will sing and dance and drink and build a dangerously large bonfire. We will shout and party, and remember her in words and music. We’ll throw such a funeral that the cops will have to break it up. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, don’t worry – her mother said she’s post my bail.

Farewell

It happened early this morning. At around 4:20am CST, my Darling Jenny passed away. I’ve seen people die before, but never someone so close to me… there aren’t many so close to me in the first place. At the end, she touched my face and smiled, a memory I’ll treasure forever. She was many things to me, both teacher and student, friend and lover. She knew things about me no one else knew. Probably not even me.

She was one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and could easily have made me feel stupid – but she never did. She found a pure and overwhelming joy in knowledge, and loved both to teach and to learn. She soaked up information from everyone around her, and radiated it like a star. Alone of my close friends, she put all the pieces together. She first met me as I am now, but she figured out who I was before… likely from the very beginning.

Her voice was like a choir of angels. People have told me that when I sing, I affect people’s emotions, but Jenny could draw tears from a stone. She says it was me who first drew her to the music, but I know it was always in her soul. Maybe I was in the right place at the right time, but it was always in her, and nothing could have stopped it from coming out.

I have never in my life met a kinder or a gentler person. Jenny didn’t even know how to raise her voice in anger. She genuinely loved everyone she met, and I like to think they all loved her back. I know I do.

She never knew why, but this song always reminded me of her… she couldn’t see that it was about her.

Farewell, sweet earth and northern sky,
Forever blessed since here did lie,
And here with lissom limb did run,
Beneath the moon, beneath the sun,
Luthein Tinuviel,
More fair than mortal tongue can tell.

Though all to ruin fell the world,
And were dissolved and backward hurled,
Unmade, into the old abyss;
Yet were it’s making good for this:
The dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea,
That Luthein, for a time, should be.

The world is a darker, sadder place now, and it pains me that I ever lived long enough to see a world without her in it.

Self-Loathing

Have you ever hated yourself? I don’t mean the whiny, emo kind of hating yourself, or them frustrated with where your life wound up kind of hating yourself. I mean, have you ever done something so vile that you couldn’t stand the thought of being yourself? I’m rather of the opinion that almost no one has. Few of us have the capacity to question ourselves to this degree, and we’ve pre-rationalized the way we operate long before we get to something specific that would make us feel that way. Extraordinary situations, however, can cause extraordinary reactions.