On the road again

We're moving on. Feels wrong staying here with another person for any longer, and I'm probably stuck with the kid. Says something about a ghost? I don't even know. 

I was never much of a Runner, as such. No rules to it or real compulsion except restlessness and a want to gather stories. I used to hang around the Runners' camps a lot. Did some research into the odd sort of society that can arise from such situations. I've got notebooks and notebooks full of notes  and stories and such. Hell, most of my luggage is that kind of thing.

When I was younger, I felt like I was genuinely capable of changing the world. I was one of the first people in my family to be able to go to college, you know? That had to count for something. Unfortunately, my main driving force over the past few years has been a disgust for the person I'd become. At least it's helped me get things done. I know it's not healthy. If anyone knows that, it's me.

I wish I was better at this. Better at being a person, but focusing on others and trying to help them is what's gotten me through this so far. Life has always been like... if we were in an airplane and the pressure started to go out, my first instinct would be to make sure that others had their oxygen mask on first. It's who I was... am?

It got worse over the last few years, to the point where I legitimately stopped caring about myself except in the context of other people for a little while. After all, I had no inherent value except what I could do for someone else, my brain said. Be the fucking therapist, right?

It was stupid, and I've been working past it. Depression is never easy when you don't have some way to deal with it. much less when you're alone and worried for your life. I do feel like I've never done the things that I'm capable of, but with the way things are, I likely won't get the chance. 

Got a little rambly there. That's why I don't blog. It's either too guarded,or too close to lowering defenses that life's taught you that you need.

But yes, traveling again. Brat's not in the best way, so I figured I'd let anyone bothering to read this know what's up. 

(the trees have eyes)

(i dream about them sometimes)

I don't always sleep easily. I have crippling regrets. Most of them happened when I was "asleep." The fact that I sleep at all is purely born of the biological need. I hate sleeping, I hate rest, I hate wasting seconds where I could be doing something.

(fire; warm comfort licking the hair off your skin)

Sometimes I ask to be monitored. Sometimes I walk a line I can't stop. I've checked myself into insane asylums - multiple. But those are even worse for me. The sickness gathers there like sludge on the doors. No child's eyes are more haunted than when restricted to the cool, padded walls of an inescapable place.

(they see you, they always see)

Faking sanity's never been hard. Given enough practice at imitation and anything's possible. But I always remember the things I want to forget when I'm asleep.

(it's no different - the trees watch them and they are so alone. so so alone. they are there and you are here and isn't that such an injustice? no one deserves to be there more than you)

Hell.

Some nights I lie awake and wish I were in Hell instead of the people I put there. Sometimes I think of the last glance they gave me. Of their parting wishes. Of the ways they asked me to respect them in their Deaths.

Sometimes I lie awake and I still hear their voices. Clear and bright as the midday sun. Some of them want to drag me down with them. Some of them want me to stand up straight and tall. Be strong in their stead. Most nights I wish the echoes of guilt would just shut. the fuck. up.

(your fault...)

Greatly Exaggerated

Any rumors of my demise, that is. I've been around, collecting stories still. As per usual. 

But yes, Maritza, Mari, that one bitch therapist, whatever you want to call me, I'd say I'm back from the dead, but that would be a lie. Last you folks heard from me was back when I was trying to help out the debacle that was the second courier group.

That sort of fell apart and I managed to wander off. Fell back into what I'd been doing before they called me in to help. 

You see, People need someone to talk to sometimes, and that's my job. Has been for a while now. So that's what I've done ever since I started 'running'. 

I've become a repository of stories and exploits, collecting them and storing them away. After all, not everyone has the ability to blog or put up videos. And if the person wants confidentiality, well... I'm used to that.

Anyway, I'd had a bad month, so yeah, I threatened the kid when they came a-knocking. Needed some alone-time, but now I guess I have company. 

Joy.

Anyway, I exist still. The kid made me get some new clothes... It's been a bit since I had a full exchange of my wardrobe, and that offended their sensibilities. Pity, really. 

I likely won't be the most talkative on here, but I'll be around, I feel sure I could scrounge up something to talk about.

Psychic Lessons By Kailin

So Mari was asking me the other day how it was that I make money as a travelling hobo, because she's very insistent that she has no marketable skills. Well I'm here to tell you that anyone can be a street-side psychic with the right inventory and attitude. 'What are those things?' You might be thinking right now. Well sit down dearies because I'm about to tell you.

• A small folding table
• A small table cloth, preferably with some sort of tacky print on a dark base
• Fortune telling tools. These can vary from person to person, but here are some popular ones
• Tarot cards
• Crystal ball
• Generic crystals
• Rune stones
• Rocks that you literally find on the ground and call rune stones. Smoother tends to be more convincing.
• Accessories. Bracelets, necklaces, rings, scarves. More is better.
• Good make up. I mean this comes naturally for me. But you know, I can direct you to some good youtube tutorials if you need. Jailhouse make-up works in a pinch.

Now the most important thing to remember at your table is to sell the mysticism. This is the hardest part and it's not natural for a lot of people. Personally I find that what helps me is the proper level of vagueness in my dialogue. A lot of you make have experience in vagueness, either via vaguebooking or vagueblogging. Now all you have to do is apply that in your interactions.


"Should I break up with my partner?"

"The cards tell me that you've invested a lot of energy into this relationship, but they aren't being terribly decisive on the matter. They see that a break up could go one of two ways, but it's up to you to determine which."

"Will I find happiness?"

"Judging by this read, I'd say look to your past to determine your future."

"Is there a chance for American Idol to make a comeback?"

"Not a chance in hell." 

Well, that last one's not terribly relevant, but you get my point. Sell the vagueness. Sell the look. Be the psychic street swindler I know you are!


Finally, the last hump to get over tends to be that swindling part. I know, I know. Some of you might have some feelings or moral dilemmas about "ripping people off." I'm going to tell you just one thing I know about my customers. They know it's all mind games. They're coming to you - a theoretical psychic - looking for $20 answers to $100 dollar questions. They're coming to you for a bargain. For a steal. For advice they don't want to talk to a therapist about. They're coming to you because they want to believe in a quick and easy fix to bigger issues. And that's what you give them. That's the part we play.


Now get out there chums. Be the charlatan you were born to be!


XOXO

Update: Not That A Single Fuck Was Given

1. I did not suffer any stab wounds in the encounter with the crazy psychiatrist lady.
2. Crazy psychiatrist lady had a knife. So that's cool.
3. She did actually try to kill me. That was fun.
4. I did not kill her. Also impressive. Just gonna raise my right hand over my left shoulder and give myself a pat on the back for that one.
5. She has a name: Mari.
6. I've decided to keep calling her Crazy Psychiatrist Lady (or CPL) until further notice.
7. She is still brandishing a knife at me.
8. We have eaten recently and gotten her new clothing (don't ask me how or why, just know that it was 100% necessary) so we have at least made some progress!
9. I'm still not sure why I listened to that fuckin' voice in my head. Fuckin' prick.
10. Not dead yet though! Positives Kailin, think positives!

XOXO

I Have Made Some Regrettable Decisions

The most prominent right now being that I listened to the damn ghost that doesn't shut up. What ghost? You talk to ghosts? You may or may not find yourself asking. Well, let me tell you: yes I sometimes talk to ghosts and it was the annoying one who insists that he just wants to help and maybe some new people about will be good for me.

So now I'm outside some crazy psychiatrist's squat, not knocking on the door (hahahaha), hoping that when I get the courage to intrude on her personal space she doesn't kill my ass.

...I'm probably going to get at least one stab wound.

Well that thought got me weirdly pumped for the adventure. I'm just gonna fix my lipstick real quick, hide that flyaway hair. Okay.

Wish me luck!

XOXO