tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63513304755980617662024-03-13T10:04:37.844-04:00My Half of LifeBecause I Don't Understand What He Does With His HalfAtalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-58307517152790659022012-05-09T14:22:00.002-04:002012-05-09T14:22:19.686-04:00Messenger's Report<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
Lea "Atalanta" Ritter dropped off of the radar months ago. I received no relevant information about her, and was surprised when, last October, I stumbled across<a href="http://andhishorsehackafore.blogspot.com/2011/10/quirky-quixotic-quilts-quack-queens.html"> this post</a>. Sir Thighpiece mentioned Atalanta by name. She had told me, but I had only revealed her surname on my blog. Apparently she'd ended up going on a killing spree (presumably during "His Half") and was both incarcerated and hospitalized. And then silence. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
But then I received this e-mail:</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
Mr. Messenger,<br /><br />Pursuant to the request of my former client, I am
to inform you that Lea Christine Ritter was executed by the state of
Arizona on the 16th of February, 2012 for crimes of which I am certain
that you are aware. Following the apprehension of Ms. Ritter, the case
progressed rapidly without necessitating a trial, by cause of her
decisions to plead guilty and request capital punishment.<br />
<br />In addition, Ms. Ritter instructed me to convey the following
confidential message: "Race is really over now. Photo finish, but the
camera broke. You know my address. [password removed]" After considerable
examination leading to a lengthy delay in the execution of her requests,
it has been determined that this message is unlikely to be criminal in
nature. It may, in fact, provide evidence that the mental competence
testing was insufficient. Between you and I, Mr. Messenger, I do not
feel that to be relevant. Due process of the law would not have resulted
in anything less than what Ms. Ritter evidently desired herself, and
would have wasted the time and money of the state.<br />
<br />Having fulfilled my obligation, I am finished with this case. Do not respond.<br /><br />Howard Wallace</blockquote>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
There it is. She's dead. A young woman who deserved almost none of what she had to deal with. Goodbye, Atalanta. I hope you're at peace now.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Don't Shoot The Messenger-</span>Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-78627830851507101202011-10-21T20:00:00.000-04:002011-10-21T20:00:00.989-04:00GoodbyeHad a dream. First in a long time. Like the old one He sent ,me. But different. Man in it. Not Him. Man took me into the sky. Letm e see the roads. One with people I cared about, one withHim. And trees. All that split the ttwo roads. Parallel roads. Just trees. Couldn't see through. All I got was to not see them Not see them die.<br />
<br />
But they were dying. He ws killing them, using me to do it. To kill them. they died. My step-broher, my ex-boyfriend. my classics teacher, my friend. Didn't see them. He protected me. Protected.The treess. He put the trees between me and them and I picked that road, All wrong. Nobody is safved, just me.<br />
Treees are in my eyes. His. Can't trustc them. Can't know what's rea;l. Are you real? can't konw. Nothing to trust. Dont want this. Don't<br />
<br />
No. No whining. Doesn't mater. Stop. Won't let me die. But I cans till stop Him.<br />
<br />
Won't see you again. Don't know if you'll see this. Never helped anyone. Sorry. Maybe advice helps. Don't be like me. Don't stop running. Race isn't over until you end it. Don't let Him trick you. Quitters never win. Things only get worse. So much worse.<br />
<br />
Got to go. Got to end this. Just schedule this to go up later.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com4Tucson, AZ, USA32.2217429 -110.92647932.0068154 -111.242336 32.436670400000004 -110.610622tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-57845974219983674882011-10-17T19:16:00.000-04:002011-10-17T19:16:50.275-04:00FireFire is one of His things. One He'd been neglecting in my experiences with Him. Fixed that. Came back to an apartment building on fire. This was Thursday. Standing in a small crowd just gaping at it. Somebody finally thought to call 911. Firetrucks showed up and I left. Didn't want to be in the way. Didn't want to be caught.<br />
<br />
Arson. Sure of it. Had the matches in my pocket. Smoke stayed with me. Hope nobody got hurt. But it wouldn't be His work if it was harmless. Just wish He'd stop using my body for that. Shouldn't have whined about the advertising.<br />
<br />
City had the same name as where lying man said my father died in a fire. Except he said Arkansas. Might be making a joke here. Or what passes for a joke in His horrible twisted mind. Arkansas and Arizona both start with Ar. Funny. No clue who got to take the place of my father.<br />
<br />
No money since I last posted. Had to get new clothes after the fire too. Extra money was gone by Saturday. So how am I posting this? Apple stores. Three of them over the past two days. Including today. Employees busy mourning Steve Jobs and haven't noticed.<br />
<br />
Final thing: what was that last comment? Looked like it was from riddle person. Whoever you are, just type normally and stop being cryptic. Anybody wants to interpret, go ahead.<br />
<br />
Now, to see if I can find food.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com0Chandler, AZ, USA33.4151843 -111.831472433.2031243 -112.14732939999999 33.6272443 -111.5156154tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-72669415066686222162011-10-12T16:58:00.000-04:002011-10-12T16:59:08.176-04:00ConfusionCheck for money every morning when I come back. This morning, wasn't just money. Newspaper clipping attached. More money than usual too. Special delivery from whoever gives me the money.<br />
<br />
Obituary. Thought it was for the girl He killed in Denver. But it's wrong. Right name, wrong person. This is the one I knew. My friend. Came from the local paper back home. Home when I had one, I mean. No details on the how of her alleged death. Does say she died in Denver early last week.<br />
<br />
How could they mess it up so bad? Has the correct family been informed? Or did they tell my friend's family she died? Would be awful. Thinking someone died who didn't. Embarrassing for the not really deceased too. And the paper.<br />
<br />
Just a terrible, confused mess.<br />
<br />
Confused me, too. But I saw the body. I know who it wasn't. Should I try to do something about this? No, what could I do? Write a letter to the editor? Tell them I was there when she died, holding the rope? That would go over well. Don't need my input to solve this.<br />
<br />
Wonder why the obit was given to me. Must be a person who pays me. Can't see Him tearing out a bit of newspaper and tucking it in my pocket.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com1Albuquerque, NM, USA35.0844909 -106.651136734.8765949 -106.96699369999999 35.2923869 -106.3352797tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-4797683111969856712011-10-04T16:50:00.002-04:002011-10-05T18:56:30.375-04:00How Wrong Is This?Another day, another crime scene. Already dead this time. Girl. About my age. Not too messy a death. Strangled. Rope in my hands, of course. He must do this on purpose. Trying to make me feel guilty. But it's all Him. Not even murder by omission here. These people would die anyway if He wants them dead. And the people I care about won't.<br />
<br />
Was in her apartment, too. That's noteworthy. Tough decision to make. Plenty of useful stuff. Clothes nearly my size. Her laptop. She wouldn't need them. Didn't take those. Only took some food. Couldn't help myself.<br />
<br />
Here's where I feel guilty. This was my choice. Bad choice. Shouldn't have taken anything. I know. Stealing from the dead is disgusting. Even if it would've just gone bad. Don't know why I'm justifying it to you. There are no good people. On this side, bad deeds are expected.<br />
<br />
Also expected: wacky coincidences. Same name as somebody I knew. Not the same person. Just same name. If there's a lesson in this, it's the world is really small. Or this country is. Nearly identical cities and similar people.<br />
<br />
Back to the point. Breakfast with a corpse. Only not really. Half wall between us and I faced away from her. Still sounds messed up. Was messed up. Wish I weren't me so I could scold me. Only when I'm not me, He takes over and I just don't exist.<br />
<br />
Again, not what I want to write about. Left after eating. No point calling the cops. They do their job well and they'd find me. Then He'd get rid of them. No gain. Hopefully they find her before things get too gross. But after I'm far from here.<br />
<br />
There was something else I meant to say. Forgot it. Hate when that happens. If it comes back, I'll edit it in next time I have a computer.<br />
<br />
Edit: Was just going to complain about timezones. Too early over here in mountain time.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com3Denver, CO, USA39.773714013347387 -105.0004577636718839.676066513347386 -105.15838626367187 39.871361513347388 -104.84252926367188tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-43797016747305839232011-09-29T18:02:00.000-04:002011-09-29T18:02:00.235-04:00Money and DeathToday's the first day I had money since Saturday. Didn't think anything of it Sunday. Used what I had saved. Then I had nothing Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. It was awful. Got scared He might be trying to get rid of me. Doesn't make sense, I know. But He's unpredictable. Could have been true.<br />
<br />
Wasn't. Got my money this morning when I came back. Salary, allowance, whatever. Usual amount. Not making up for what I missed. Kind of upset about it.<br />
<br />
How do you people do it? The Runners, I mean. You don't have any income, right? Had to go to a soup kitchen. Felt like Oliver Twist. Awful food too. Been homeless for months, sure, but I've always had a little money. Paid for my own food.<br />
<br />
No, I'll stop whining. If it happens again, I'll live. Just won't be able to post. No big deal.<br />
<br />
Also, it's almost been a year since my mother died. Monday's the anniversary. On one hand, haven't lived a full year since then. On the other, feel like I've lived a whole life like this. Never thought then I'd still be alive now. Thought I was done for when I saw Him. Especially after He started killing off people I knew. But I am. Half alive is still alive.<br />
<br />
Don't want to live forever like this. Don't want to die yet either. Can't say for sure things won't get better. Maybe He'll let me go after a year, even. Doubt it. But He's unpredictable. Could be true.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com3Omaha, NE, USA41.2523634 -95.997988341.0613639 -96.3138453 41.4433629 -95.682131300000009tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-48251851221719987042011-09-23T16:15:00.001-04:002011-09-23T16:15:41.582-04:00Don't Know What That Was For<br />
Some of you saw the riddle I just deleted. Classic, about how many legs over a day. Answer is human. Everybody knows this. Should be changed, though. Nowadays old people have six legs. Walkers, not canes.<br />
<br />
Don't know how it got here. Maybe the laptop wasn't as broken as it looked. A tech nerd could maybe fix it up and it'd still be logged in. Don't know. Or they guessed my password. Not hard. Just no point. No identity to steal. Changed the password anyway.<br />
<br />
More wondering why than how, myself. What did I do to deserve an easy riddle? Guessing it was somebody He ruined. Messed up caps and all. Maybe it was bandit guy himself. Reminding me he's human too? Except I didn't forget. Not like some people.<br />
<br />
Maybe you have better ideas.<br />
<br />
All I've got to say. Wanted to let you know I saw it and deleted it. And changed the password. Won't happen again.<br />
Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com5Rockford, IL, USA42.2711311 -89.093995242.177134099999996 -89.251923699999992 42.3651281 -88.9360667tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-28958357952139809512011-09-21T18:58:00.000-04:002011-09-21T18:58:09.946-04:00How I Broke My Computer<br />
So, here's that story. The one from Sunday.<br />
<br />
Saw Geoff again. Before he saw me. Didn't see anybody else around. Hid in the doorway of a shop. Except somebody was already lurking there. Scrawny guy, dressed like a bandit from a Western. Clearly on His side. My side.<br />
<br />
Bandit guy tries to give a hatchet. Couldn't afford a gun, maybe. Didn't take it. Told him to get out, it was my half and I was supposed to be free of this. Bandit said it was His will. Pushed me out of the way. To do the job himself. Wasn't having any of that. Grabbed the guy's arm and yanked him back. Weighed almost nothing. Like he was literally hollow. Or just not eating. That got him mad. Madder. Swung at me with the hatchet.<br />
<br />
The briefcase saved me. Or the laptop. Both. Hatchet broke through the screen of the laptop. Bandit fell on the ground. Convulsing. Figured I should call 911. But I had no phone.<br />
<br />
So what do you think I did? If you guessed "call out to guy who wants you dead using the name you made up for him asking him to call 911 for you," you win.<br />
<br />
Geoff looked over. Took a moment to realize what's going on. Then took out his phone and called. Couldn't hear what he said, but saw him look around for signs. I got out of there. Nothing more I could do and both of the guys there had tried to kill or at least hurt me.<br />
<br />
But after he hung up, Geoff ran after me. Don't think you're supposed to hang up on 911. Anyway, Geoff wanted to know how I knew his name. No good answer. He went further, claiming I was some dead girl, his old neighbor. Oh, and I was betraying the human race to a mind-controlling alien. That's a new one.<br />
<br />
I was so confused. He wasn't really Geoff. Couldn't be. His face wasn't the same. Close. Different somehow. Can't explain it. And even if his face changed, why would he be here?<br />
<br />
Said I didn't know him except since last week. Said I was from Ohio. Didn't even say Geoff. Don't know if he believed me. Also told him I just saved his life so he should leave me alone. He just frowned at me and left.<br />
<br />
Don't know if any of that was worth it. Haven't seen Geoff since, sure. But he could be dead. And now I'm back to library bribes.<br />
Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com2Madison, WI, USA44.9591352 -89.630122144.8692482 -89.788050599999991 45.049022199999996 -89.4721936tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-47205979232455981382011-09-19T19:46:00.000-04:002011-09-19T19:46:11.941-04:00No CoincidenceUsed to live next door to a family of five. Back when I had a house and a family.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Never did explain that I had a stepfather, did I? Wasn't just me and my mother. Had a younger stepbrother too. Not the story I meant to tell.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Neighbors, right? Two boys, and a girl. Was good friends with the girl. Until junior year, anyway. Again, not the point. Point is, the oldest boy was two years older than me. Into politics. Weird, crazy politics. Convinced all Democrats are communists trying to brainwash children. Annoying, but he meant well. Probably. Helped me with pre-calc because I suck at math. Might expect him to be bullied, except he was a giant too. Whole family was tall.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
His name was Geoff. The guy I named Geoff here reminded me of him. Right down to the belief that anybody not on his side is evil. Looked kind of like him too. But not the same person. I was sure of it. Until he recognized me.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There's a story there too. Short version: Stopped guy from attacking Geoff, broke computer in process, called out his name, he confronted me, figured out who I was, I lied, he left. Long version coming soon. Like I said, my laptop broke. Hatchets do that.<br />
<br />
Still trying to wrap my mind around him really being Geoff. Doesn't make sense. Would have recognized him. Doesn't feel right even now. Can't explain it. Might even be an impostor. But he seemed legit.<br />
<br />
Also, the guy with the hatchet said I was hunting Geoff. One mystery cleared up. Geoff wasn't magically following me, He was sending me after him. No coincidence, as in the title of this post.</div>
Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com0Green Bay, WI, USA44.519159 -88.01982644.428585500000004 -88.177754499999992 44.6097325 -87.8618975tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-10103240601638256102011-09-16T17:07:00.000-04:002011-09-16T17:07:58.029-04:00A Coincidence?Things that shouldn't happen keep happening. Coincidence isn't good enough. Must be arranged. By Him, or maybe someone else. Don't know. I should explain. Don't want to sound crazy.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That guy found me. The one from in the McDonalds on Saturday. Not one of the other guys. Should come up with some names. Let's go with Geoff for this one. No reason.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyway, Geoff found me today. This time he was ready. Had a hockey stick. Woke up on the bench to find him glaring at me. Tried not to panic. Remind myself He wouldn't let me die. Geoff is His target. No reason I'd be in danger. Except how I can't run away.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tried to pretend I was still sleeping, but Geoff saw me look at him. So I stood up and waved. Maybe he'd go away. Nope.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Geoff marches toward me, saying how he was going to rid the world of scum like me. Defeat Him by taking out His pawns. I laughed. Couldn't help it. Geoff was so oblivious. Tried to explain to him that it was a bad plan. Too many of us, and He protects us. If it was just me and a handful of others, if Geoff could find them all like he found me, maybe. Maybe it would hurt Him. But I doubt it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Geoff had no such doubts and wasn't going to listen to a "mindslave," as he thinks of me. Didn't bother explaining I'm only part-time. Didn't think it would matter.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then Geoff charged at me. Cross-checked me over the bench. Knocked the wind out of me. So I was lying there on the ground with my legs on the bench. Defenseless. But Geoff didn't do anything. He hesitated. Not quite ready to bludgeon me to death. But he steeled himself and lifted the stick for a big swing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
By that point I could move and breathe again. Sort of. Rolled almost out of the way, and the stick came down on my forearm. That hurt. I cried out. Again, couldn't help it. Good thing, too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Someone actually heard and decided to help. Not supposed to happen. Especially in a city. Not complaining, though. Woman came over. Shouted about calling the police. Geoff ran away. Then she left too. Cared enough to get rid of him, not enough to see if I was hurt.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Better that way. Can't go to a hospital and have His time start. Would be a mess. Just bruises anyway. I'll be fine.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Except I can't figure it out. How did Geoff find me again? Unlikely as me running into wallet guy back in North Carolina. These can't be just coincidences. Must be some meaning to it.</div>
Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com1Milwaukee, WI, USA43.0389025 -87.906473642.853179499999996 -88.222330599999992 43.2246255 -87.5906166tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-42028232624837892872011-09-12T17:31:00.000-04:002011-09-12T17:31:00.200-04:00That GuyLast post ended when I saw a guy watching me. Remember that? Only two days ago. A lot has been going on in our little world. Can't blame you if you forgot. Or never saw it in the first place.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyway, guy was watching me. Big hairy nerd, around my age, maybe a few years older. Finished the post, shut the laptop and glared back at him. He came over. Asked if I knew about You-Know-Who. Told him Harry Potter was over and he had to move on. But I knew this was that situation. The one I'd avoided so far. Not the first time I saw a Runner. First time one saw me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He rephrased it, used some other stupid name for Him. Any other time, I would have come up with a good lie. Cover. Something to get him to go away. But I had just written that post. Not in the best mood. Didn't lie at all.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What would you do in his shoes? After somebody tells you yes, they do know about Him. No, they aren't a Runner. Actually, they're on His side.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'll tell you what this guy did. Got this tough look on his face and raised his fists. Like he expected a fist fight. Now, I'm sitting down at a table, he's standing next to me, and we're in a busy McDonald's. He's got almost a foot and probably 100 pounds on me. Plus he's a he. Ridiculous.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I just sat there. Let him realize how stupid he looked. No such luck. Then I said He was coming. That got the guy out of my face. Quickly went back and grabbed his bag, then headed for the door. Turned to point menacingly at me before getting outside and running away.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Went well. Nobody got hurt. Haven't seen him since, and I'm in Kalamazoo now. Always thought it was just a goofy word. But it's a real city.</div>
Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com0Kalamazoo, MI, USA42.277308774237092 -85.52856445312541.901366274237091 -86.160278453125 42.653251274237093 -84.896850453125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-4292098648494718712011-09-10T16:39:00.000-04:002011-09-10T16:39:00.116-04:00No RevelationsEveryone's got secrets coming out. Good guys were bad. Some bad guys are good. Some bad guys are worse. Truth isn't what you expected. Truth isn't what you wanted. Think I'd be better off not knowing it.<br />
<br />
My turn now. Here are my dirty little secrets. Shoplifted a few times. A little underaged drinking. Some forged signatures. Speeding. Lied too. Some weren't even white lies. Made out with one guy while going out with another. Wallet guy, actually. Said some cruel things.<br />
<br />
Did I leave anything out? Nothing important, I'm sure. There is nothing important. No skeletons in my closet.<br />
<br />
Wish I had some. Then I could just say I want to be a better person. Worse you are, the more support you get, right? And you have a goal too. Become better people. Not like me. Just getting through the days, hoping something will magically get better. Knowing it won't.<br />
<br />
But at least I'm not in danger of death. I stay alive. Part of the deal. If I'm in danger, He'll help me out. Still can't be reckless. Somebody else might get killed. Wouldn't want that. That's why I don't want to be arrested. Cops would be doing their job, and then He'd kill them so I could get out. Maybe. Haven't tested it yet. Don't plan to.<br />
<br />
Maybe you could count that as my crime. He killed people I loved since I didn't join Him fast enough. And He killed the lying man on the other side of the glass. Didn't do exactly what He wanted me to do. People died. Murder by omission? Sounds about right. See, I am one of you. A killer. Show me the secret handshakes.<br />
<br />
Sorry. Maybe some of you aren't killers. Just disturbing how many are and get forgiven anyway.<br />
<br />
Need to end this. Guy is watching me.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com4Fort Wayne, IN 46808, USA41.116607320128942 -85.16601562541.020856320128942 -85.323944125 41.212358320128942 -85.008087125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-75766629773084448032011-09-03T16:54:00.000-04:002011-09-03T16:54:01.038-04:00MoreYesterday sucked. Came back in the driver's seat of a PT Cruiser. In a parking garage. No other cars on the level. Got out and saw an old guy crushed up against the wall by the back of the car. He was making awful noises.<br />
<br />
I froze. What do you do in that situation? Couldn't call 911. Couldn't help him at all. So I left. Walked as fast as I could, since He won't let me run.<br />
<br />
Never explained that. When I try to run, my legs freeze up. I just fall instead. I believe he did something in my brain. The part that sends messages to muscles. Some of the messages are blocked. Just to make my half worse.<br />
<br />
But I was talking about yesterday. Got out of the parking garage. No problem. Then notice I left the briefcase in the car. Going back in wasn't an option. Couldn't deal with seeing the dying guy again. Might get caught too.<br />
<br />
Wasn't able to sleep all day. Kept thinking about the old man. And how the cops would have to be after me now. Parking garages have security cameras, right? But nothing happened. He protected me as usual. I got some food and just tried to calm myself over and over.<br />
<br />
Then His half started and today the briefcase was back. Of course. No stupid troll posts this time. No more.<br />
<br />
No more. Please.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com0Erie, PA, USA42.1292241 -80.08505942.0821196 -80.164023 42.176328600000005 -80.006095tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-27496002078577375082011-08-27T15:44:00.003-04:002011-08-27T15:44:00.758-04:00IreneDid you hear? Supposed to be a hurricane tomorrow. All the way up here. People are panicking. Not too worried myself.<br />
<br />
For one thing, I'm in Albany. It will barely brush by here. That's if I'm still here in the morning. Probably won't be. Been moving west again. Hope that continues. East would be something to worry about. Doubt He cares if I get wet, though.<br />
<br />
But another reason is this: they open shelters in storms. Not like regular shelters. Open in the day. Full of people who've got homes. Can probably sleep in there safely. Won't be the easiest target at least. All I've got to steal is in this briefcase. And nobody wants to touch it.<br />
<br />
Believe I'll get another day of rest this Sunday. Three in a row. Weird. Only the first was pleasant. Unless these storm shelters are real fancy. Doubt it.<br />
<br />
Now, for other stuff. Still nothing to show that fire ever happened. Least not where or when he said it did. But he must've had a reason to pick Arkansas. If I end up near there, I could check. That won't be anytime soon.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com3Downtown, Albany, NY, USA42.649806350091481 -73.75508345910645942.643753850091478 -73.762358959106464 42.655858850091484 -73.747807959106453tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-29072894549024467252011-08-24T17:47:00.000-04:002011-08-24T17:47:26.330-04:00Does This Even Deserve a Post?Been trying to research the alleged fire. On the internet and at the library. Haven't had any luck. Maybe that is luck. No fire is a good thing, after all.<div><br />
</div><div>Still upset that He killed that guy. I was caught on His half. That guy knew things. Knew my name. Knew where to find me. Knew what I was doing. Even if he was lying, he had the truth. Doubt he was working alone, either. Since He killed him, the guy wasn't on His side. Maybe he's with the government. The FBI or whoever that covers this up. What was the one in Zeke's blog, Fink?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Oh, I never said that started working. Day after I said it wasn't. No idea what that was about. Could be your perception filter. Could be Blogger glitching out. Who knows? Better question, who cares?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Anyway, I believe the guy who caught me could work for him. Maybe not.</div><div><br />
</div><div>That's all I've got to say really. Like I said, not much of a post.</div>Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com3East Cambridge, Cambridge, MA, USA42.371861726118638 -71.08291663476563842.36551172611864 -71.095767134765637 42.378211726118636 -71.070066134765639tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-30144028173149733832011-08-22T18:06:00.000-04:002011-08-22T18:06:09.948-04:00What Do I Do Now?I came back yesterday morning in a small room. Gray tile floor. White walls. Door with no handle. Fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Big mirror on the wall. I've seen movies. Knew it looked like an interrogation room.<br />
<br />
Waved to the mirror. No response. Walked over and knocked on it. Voice came through a speaker on the wall over the mirror. Didn't notice it before. A man's voice, and all it said is my old name. The one I had when I was a person.<br />
<br />
It's weird. I should have been surprised, confused, nervous. But I wasn't. Sort of expected something like this to happen eventually. They'd catch me, find out who I had been, find all the things He did with me. Then they'd try to bring me to court. I'd be told to get a lawyer. Wouldn't really need one. Already have a man-shaped thing in a suit on my case.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I shook my head. Pretended to be confused. That's when it stopped being what I expected. He turned the light on in his room, and I could see him. Middle-aged, salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, rugged face. No uniform, just a suit. He had a folder on the desk in front of him, and he took some newspaper clippings out. Started reading one. It was about a fire. A fire that killed my father in July.<br />
<br />
My reaction was enough for him to confirm who I was. He nodded. Said he understood why I had lied. Said he knew about my situation. Said he knew my father. Worked with him. Was there when he died. Said the fire was His doing.<br />
<br />
I hardly knew my father. He left when I was still a toddler. I know what he looked like, but only from pictures. He always sent me birthday cards, never with a return address. My mother said he worked for the CDC. I don't know if he was on that road in my nightmare. He should have been, near the end at least.<br />
<br />
As the man behind the glass started to explain how it happened, the light in his room shut off and his voice was cut off by static. I felt dizzy and nauseous. Had to lean on the wall. I knew He had come. After a few minutes, the feeling that He was near went away. I knocked on the window again. No response. I was trapped.<br />
<br />
So I slept. Nothing else I could do. Nobody came all day. No wi-fi in that room either. I hoped He wouldn't just let me starve to death in there. And my hopes were answered. Obviously, or I wouldn't be posting this.<br />
<br />
But He didn't keep His part of the deal. My father shouldn't be dead. And there's nothing I can do about it.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com5Haverhill, MA, USA42.77952753144509 -71.08214415856934942.729255531445091 -71.174164158569354 42.82979953144509 -70.990124158569344tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-80496907724421092692011-08-18T17:09:00.001-04:002011-08-19T15:15:22.328-04:00Problems and ResolutionThis has happened to you. It's hot. You go into a place with AC. You leave. So much hotter. You were handling the heat better before you went inside. That's how I'm feeling. Glimpse of how it could be, then back to how it is. I'm just whining. I'll get used to it again. Oh, and it's hot too. Not the point.<br />
<br />
Bigger issue. Too close to where I'm from. Have to avoid being recognized. That would be very bad. But I don't look like I did last I was here. Might not be a problem. If I really come back in my hometown, though, I'd recognize them. Nearly as bad. Reminders of what He's taken. He wouldn't do that. If what Messi saw is the usual, then there's no reason bringing me there. Not a city. Don't even really have a town square. Nowhere good for advertising.<br />
<br />
And that's another thing. Advertising? Why does He need to take 12 whole hours for that? Why does He need any time? He's got hostages. I'd do it myself to prevent Him from killing them. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Only part I wouldn't do is use that Path.<br />
<br />
The Path. Nobody knows too much about it. Contacted <a href="http://youpaywedeliver.blogspot.com/">Spencer</a> because I read that he's used it. Gave me some answers. (If you are him, thanks for getting back.) Still, a mystery. That's useful. Useful for what, you ask?<br />
<br />
I have some facts. I have some questions. Questions nobody can answer. Up until now, I've tried to ignore the questions. It doesn't work so well. Now I'll come up with a story using the facts to answer the questions. Something I can believe. Then just avoid contrary facts. That's my resolution.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com7Nashua, NH, USA42.772597432669833 -71.4628890926513842.719774932669836 -71.52729159265138 42.825419932669831 -71.398486592651381tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-12923676049164050302011-08-15T17:46:00.000-04:002011-08-15T17:46:09.033-04:00Tentatively Good MoodYou've already seen <a href="http://bearingbadnews.blogspot.com/2011/08/meeting-atalanta.html">where I was yesterday</a>. Or maybe your blog following priorities are messed up. I mainly slept all day, but it was in a bed. With a pillow and everything. Would it be pathetic to say that's the highlight of my year so far? Because it was. Not just the bed, but the shower, too.<br />
<br />
And the company, of course. Haven't been able to really speak to anybody about any of this. Have to lie to everyone who talks to me. Don't want to get anyone involved who isn't. Haven't run into anybody who is involved. Even if I did, I'd avoid them. They might misunderstand my situation. But yesterday, I got to speak to people who understand. At least in part. And I feel better for it.<br />
<br />
But he hasn't put up what happened last night. That's what worries me. Why it's tentative. I wasn't hurt or dirty this morning. So it might not have been too bad. But Messi knows. Maybe Poe. Soon we all will. Have to find a new subtitle.<br />
<br />
If it's really bad, I won't blame you for being disgusted at me. If He uses me to strangle kittens or something, I'll be disgusted too.<br />
<br />
I'm afraid to know. I need to. But it scares me.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com3Downtown, Bridgeport, CT, USA41.181948744020417 -73.19151915856934941.173568744020415 -73.198886158569351 41.19032874402042 -73.184152158569347tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-33952183204928486182011-08-10T19:02:00.000-04:002011-08-10T19:02:13.555-04:00That Went BadlyI felt like distracting myself from reality today. So I went and saw the last Harry Potter movie. Or tried to see it. I saw most of it.<br />
<br />
It was good. I still ship Harry/Hermione but I didn't expect any of that from this one. First part had plenty. Their special effects looked good. Neville was epic. They didn't give enough time to showing who died. I'm not a reviewer. Maybe you noticed. Can't speak for the ending either.<br />
<br />
See, Harry was fighting Voldemort and it got all distorted. Video tearing, I believe it's called? And the audio got all muffled. Like it was happening underwater. I look around and nobody else is in the theater. Weren't many to start with. And they were all gone. Look back to the screen and there He is.<br />
<br />
Not in the theater. In the movie. He took Voldemort's place. Shot out some tentacles and held Harry up. Blood starts pouring from Harry's scar, then his head splits open. It was horrible. Then it was over. Black screen. I left the theater. People reappeared once I came out the door into the hall. It wasn't time for the movie to end. But I wasn't going back in.<br />
<br />
I assume the real movie ended like the book. Harry wins. Bunch of people are dead, but evil's gone. Survivors go on with their lives. Stupid epilogue.<br />
<br />
Will any of us live to be in the epilogue?Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com6Harrisonburg, VA, USA38.450093634739133 -78.8657001430664238.400146134739131 -78.912629643066424 38.500041134739135 -78.818770643066415tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-16958863493351778572011-08-08T15:48:00.024-04:002011-08-08T18:34:04.591-04:00Just Cleaning<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don't like having that post on here as a post. Didn't write it. Doesn't belong here. </span>This is my blog. The posts will be written by me. Not some irritating troll sent by Him.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But what the troll said matters. Sort of. Because it was His will. So here it is:</span><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">FRIDAY, AUGUST 5, 2011</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">lolno</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">cant let u do that star fox</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Posted by some troll at 22:10 </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And the comments. Not mine to delete. Except the ones that are. Anyway:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/00048876437455838401">Elaine</a> said...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">... Atalanta, what the fuck is going on?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">06 August, 2011 00:53</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441">Atalanta</a> said...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Note to self: Log out next time.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">But I believe that's the answer to my question. I'm still here since He wants me to be. Of course. Should've known.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">06 August, 2011 15:29</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/02352349034061364150">Spencer</a> said...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">... you remind me of a kid I know. Started babbling about lack of choice and then he turned proxy. Quitter. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">I think you'e better than that, sweetheart. And believe me, people are listening.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">07 August, 2011 16:55</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441">Atalanta</a> said...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">I made the same choice as your kid. I chose to save half of my life and the lives of everybody else I knew. The right choice.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">This blog? Wrong choice. He wanted me to do it. Why? No way to know. But I believe it's the same reasons I want to stop.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">What I need to do is make this useful. Just don't know how.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">07 August, 2011 18:52</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/02352349034061364150">Spencer</a> said...</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">There's really no answer to that.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I started a courier service.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Elaine started to research.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Konaa vowed to fight.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I guess it's a different choice for everyone.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Either way, it's something that you'll need to decide on your own. Maybe the blog can help....? I don't know.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">As for that kid? He did it for a reason. Abandoned his friends for revenge, it seems. Abandoned... pretty much everything, really. Only thing was that he went back on his beliefs.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">... I have to wonder. Are we all going to end up doing the same thing...?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">08 August, 2011 13:26</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Now to get rid of it. If you want to comment on it or these comments, do that on this one.</span></div></div></div></div></div></div>Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com1Johnson City, TN, USA36.322594264563328 -82.33806647607423236.235146764563325 -82.452734976074225 36.410041764563331 -82.223397976074239tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-20868596858316955482011-08-05T20:38:00.000-04:002011-08-05T20:38:00.384-04:00Why Am I Here?I don't know why I'm still here. Nobody knew the boy. Nobody ever will. My reason for making this blog is gone. Don't need a blog to talk to myself. Won't change any opinions of me if I do it out loud. Most homeless people are crazy, right?<br />
<br />
And talking to you? I'm not helping anyone. I can't. No way to get to people and no useful knowledge. Might even be making things worse. For you and for me. You see this and have more doubts when your own life is on the line. I see you and remember stuff I'd rather forget. Or I start to hate you because you're free.<br />
<br />
I'm going to drop out again. Pretend like I don't know about Him. It worked before. He stayed in His half of my life. I'll put this laptop in the briefcase and leave it here outside the McDonalds. If any of you want it and are nearby, go ahead and look for it. Nobody's tried to steal it before. I don't know why, but I don't believe they'd take it now.<br />
<br />
Still writing? No, I'm done. I can't do this anymore. There's no point.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com0Downtown, Atlanta, GA, USA33.75303262610246 -84.388218301025433.738983126102461 -84.4004688010254 33.767082126102459 -84.375967801025411tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-37259702645002715832011-08-01T15:47:00.000-04:002011-08-01T15:47:54.996-04:00It Was HimI have his wallet. The guy I dated. The one I thought I saw. And I did see him. Here's his license, his debit card, his library card, all of it. But I don't know why.<br />
<br />
If you're jumping to bad conclusions, you're not alone. I waste too much time on maybes. Not doing that again. You can come up with plenty yourselves. As always, I'll never know. Neither will you, unless you're psychic. Is it weird I still doubt psychics when I'm being mind-controlled by an evil god?<br />
<br />
Hard to know what to do with this. Not without knowing how come I've got it. What He made me do to him.<br />
<br />
That's awkward. Hope my pronouns aren't confusing anyone. I just don't like any of the names for Him. They're descriptive, but they don't describe the important things. And a lot of them are just goofy.<br />
<br />
I was trying to write about this wallet. Should I get rid of it? Hold onto it? It could be evidence, right? There's already been plenty of evidence. I should have been arrested a hundred times. Am I invisible to police? I don't even know there was a crime here. He could have just dropped it and I picked it up, even when it wasn't really me. No, that's dumb.<br />
<br />
Here, I'm just typing to myself and nobody wants to read this. I'll finish it up.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com8Chapel Hill, NC, USA35.916581766196 -79.04731787988282635.865174766196006 -79.091197879882827 35.967988766196 -79.003437879882824tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-13285831307486529622011-07-31T17:28:00.000-04:002011-07-31T17:33:48.294-04:00That Was CloseI believe I just saw one of the guys I dated in high school. But there's no way, right? This isn't anywhere near where we went to school, and he went to Northeastern. He wouldn't be in North Carolina. It's too unlikely. Must have just looked like him. Except, he looked at me funny. Maybe it was only after I looked at him funny. I don't know.<br />
<br />
If it was him, I'm glad he didn't say anything. I'm supposed to be dead. How could I explain any of this?<br />
<br />
It doesn't matter. He left, whoever he was. Just a close call. I've been lucky, not having to get too close to the places where people would know me.<br />
<br />
I've been lucky overall. My half of life isn't fun. Not what I dreamed of, for sure. But it could be so much worse. Could be itching to kill people. Could be a zombie. Instead, I'm a paid employee. I even get benefits like this computer. And I'm alive. Put it that way, it sounds peachy.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com0Durham, NC, USA36.014532750483482 -78.91428031274415435.953280250483481 -78.978409312744148 36.075785250483484 -78.85015131274416tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-42344214773129794632011-07-26T18:27:00.001-04:002011-07-28T18:55:00.108-04:00Tomb of the UnknownsHe's been dragging me around Maryland and Virginia the past few days. Today I'm in Arlington. It's a county and a city, somehow.<br />
<br />
I took a walk over to the cemetery earlier after eating. The big one. Been thinking about death lately. It fit. Went around, checking out the monuments. Looked for graves with my old name.<br />
<br />
And I saw the Tomb of the Unknowns. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Whatever name you like. It made me think of the boy who died and made me start this blog. He was unknown, to me and to all of you. Maybe the police identified him, let his family know. Unless they were dead too.<br />
<br />
Are we soldiers? Is this a war? And why haven't they noticed us yet? People on both sides are dying. <a href="http://raceisover.blogspot.com/2011/06/why-im-here.html">The kid I found killed.</a> <a href="http://maybesane.blogspot.com/2011/07/at-third-chime-time-will-be.html">The kid Lucas killed.</a> <a href="http://takethemyth.blogspot.com/2011/07/ohfuckfuckcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.html">Cam.</a> <a href="http://bearingbadnews.blogspot.com/2011/06/earlier-this-morning-around-5.html">Caper.</a> <a href="http://fighthimuntiltheend.blogspot.com/2011/07/first-post-i-guess.html">Robert Sagel.</a> <a href="http://raceisover.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-story.html">My friend. My mother. My coach</a>. So many others.<br />
<br />
How haven't they connected the dots? I know Zeke Strahm is or was a cop. I should get around to reading his blogs. But he's not the only intelligent cop out there, right? They can't all be incompetent. Shouldn't people like Morningstar be on a terrorist watch list by now?<br />
<br />
Maybe this all makes perfect sense. I haven't slept enough for months, so maybe I'm just missing the obvious. All I've got is that He kills or takes the ones who notice. Even then, those people should be noticed.Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com3Arlington, VA, USA38.891033018640705 -77.07527198144532638.837506518640708 -77.145284981445329 38.9445595186407 -77.005258981445323tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6351330475598061766.post-39626956716770910832011-07-21T16:11:00.003-04:002011-09-11T19:17:19.977-04:00What Happened?<br />
I came back to bruises and scraped knees. I have a black eye.<br />
<br />
What happened last night?<br />
<br />
Not a mugging. I have my money, the briefcase, the laptop.<br />
<br />
Maybe a Runner fought me? But I'm not locked up, or dead. Would you just leave one of us bruised?<br />
<br />
Maybe He did this? I can't predict Him. Can't rule it out, but it doesn't seem right.<br />
<br />
It could have been anything. Maybe I fell down the stairs. Walked into a door. Those cliche abuse excuses. This isn't the first time it happened. Might never know how I end up a punching bag. Might be better not knowing.<br />
<br />
I shouldn't whine. It's what I have to live with, if I want to live at all. If I want them to live at all. Rebelling against Him would get everyone I cared about killed. It wouldn't stop at bruising. No, down that road is bleeding, vomiting, dying. I have to remember that. Even when I see you partying, drinking, going to concerts, loving, I can't forget that you're all suffering too. You're just putting on positive faces. Nobody wins.<br />
<br />
But I lost.<br />
<br />
Whining again. I'll stop here. Take some more aspirin and listen to music for a while.<br />
Atalantahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02482490510465133441noreply@blogger.com1Gaithersburg, MD, USA39.161579096096759 -77.22152747460938839.128759096096758 -77.2622534746094 39.19439909609676 -77.180801474609382