A brief interlude of violence

Of course.
Of course someone is fucking with me.
Of course someone has decided that THIS! This must be the correct moment to fuck with me.
Which means that the logical thing to do is to keep going in the direction I was going and let them keep on at their little games.

But you know what? You've caught me in a bit of a bad mood. Not feeling the logical vibe today. What I am feeling is a terrible desire to find the party responsible and break a few of their fingers. For starters. I'm given to understand that fingers are necessary for operating a keyboard and I'd rather permit the person or persons responsible to do so for the foreseeable future.

So I'll tell you what asshole. This is your notice. I'm turning my car around. If you would like to avoid pain, seriously bodily harm and assorted very unpleasant words that I would like to have with you, you should step away from that account you just broke into, and start running at the sound of the tone.

I don't take kindly to people fucking with me by using dead people.


Beep.


Post Script: Sorry if this gets to you two or three days late. There's not much in the way of free internet between where I am at the moment and my destination. I'll probably have arrived by the time it gets there. But you've got to see to the formalities when you're dealing with mad people.

Pardon me, there's a spot of violence I need to be doing. I'll let you know how that goes, shall I?

It's been a while.
I haven't bothered opening this laptop in... what. Two weeks?

Nothing's changed.

Which means she's probably dead.
Or doesn't give a fuck.

No point stopping now, is there?

Miranda is still missing.
I haven't heard from her. Phone number is out of service. Not that I blame her. I keep the battery out of mine.
So happy fucking Valentine's Day in case you read this Mir.

I'm alive. That's good news right? Ha. Ha ha.
Found this on the tumblr.

Looking more and more likely that Miranda has the camera.

The first one is from the woodlot, for certain.
I don't know about the other one. "Smile".
Yeah right. Fuck you Mir.

I've still got a little crappy point-and-shoot that Miranda left behind. I'll see if I can't get some use out of it.
I'll give the Ottawa transit system one thing. It has heated bus terminals. Lifesaver.
She's not at her house. I checked. There might have been a broken window involved. I'm not quite sure, you know? I think, that this is in order.


My name is Robin Smith.
You might know me. I spent some time trolling a few blogs. No, this isn't a fucking apology.
No, I'm not asking for your fucking sympathy. Take it elsewhere, I've got no fucking use for it.
I'm not writing this for me. I'm writing this because of her.
I have a friend. Girl named Miranda. She's missing, probably running like me. She was acting weird, before.
I didn't really mention it. Kind of regret that now.

She's about 5'7'', dirty blonde hair, dyed brown the last time I saw her. Short, sort of a pixie cut. Nose piercing.

If you see her? Drop me a line.

Miranda is missing.

She was here yesterday.
I think.
Camera is missing.

Conclusion? Miranda probably has the camera.

There's not a note. No signs of a struggle, but I don't suppose that means anything. Her stuff isn't here.

And then there's the pictures.
Miranda left it up on the laptop.
I recognize... the first one is from out at the edge of  the woodlot.
The second? No.
Conclusion? Miranda is running.
Makes sense.

Fuck. Right. Okay. Caffeine. One stop. Then more running.
Running is better than sitting still at least.

Hanlon's Razor

"Never mistake for malice, that which can be adequately explained by stupidity."

News then. Miranda finally decided to answer her phone. Montreal. She was in montreal. That took all of two seconds to mention. Seriously. You break into my account, post a cryptic comment and... are the blogs getting to you or something Mir?

It's snowing again. Plenty of it. If you read the tumblr (don't know why not) you'll have seen the photo this morning.

Miranda

Where in the everloving fuck are you? You broke into my account? To post a fucking comment? You can fucking well do that without guessing at my password. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK? Answer your goddamned phone. I'm not even kidding at this point. You weren't at class yesterday? Yes I checked.

Just answer the phone.

AWOL

My own bed again. And if you'd believe it, I still haven't bothered unpacking. Haven't really had the time.

Went by Miranda's house yesterday.
Actually, let me preface this by saying that she hasn't answered her phone in two days. She always answers the phone. Even if it's just to say "busy now, talk later." 
So I walk to her house. We've got plenty of snow here, nice and crunchy where it hasn't turned to slush. Knock on the front door. No answer. Maybe she's gone somewhere? Don't recall her having any plans though. And there's a shit-ton of mail piled up. I took a look, she's got one of those flap/slot things on her door for mail.

At least a week's worth.

Of course, the neighbours seemed a little wary of some short white dude in a jacket looking through someone's front door. Threatened to call the cops on me, so I scrammed.

Went back that night, there's no lights on in the whole house. Where the everloving fuck are you hiding Miranda?

Hey, Mir? If you read this, pick up your fucking phone. So I can punch you through it. I will find a way to do it. Disappearing is not fucking cool.

Back in Ottawa

What it says on the fucking tin. A little miserable. Forgot my boots here, and don't you know it snowed here while I was away. Lugging a suitcase through the slush is an exercise in fucking futility.

Been ditched by Miranda for the evening. Lovely girl most of the time, but she seems to be in a bit of a state. Not sure why. We hardly talked over the break.

My sleeping is still wildly fucked up. I've got two nights to get it back under control before classes start up again.

I dropped by the coffee shop on my way to the train. Bad idea, since, the Coffee Shop, and because it fucked my schedule (along with the subway) and I nearly missed the damn train. Train ride was nice though. But anyways, one of the guys in there said the two longcoat dorks were back in, end of November. Figures, right?

Glad I'm not fucking working there any more.

Train Ride

A recap, for the week. I wound up going to Montreal. It's a gorgeous city, for the record, but I don't have any pictures from there. There are two reasons for this. Winter decided to finally get it's game in fucking gear and bit down hard with a cold snap, and I wasn't fucking around outside with the sun going down in a city I wasn't familiar with in the fucking cold without any fucking gloves. That is the requisite run-on sentence for this post. Long story, as to why I was in Montreal, but it's always nice to be out of the house with company. I'm not exactly a fucking social butterfly.

As for my plans. I've got a five hour train ride to Toronto tomorrow, and this time I'm actually going to take pictures as I go. I could liveblog the whole trip when we stop at a station, if I had a mind to. I'm also going to finish my Blair Witch Liveblog tomorrow on the trip, and finally get around to resuming watching those hilariously bad videos.

TL;DR? G0t my shit packed, and I'm getting the fuck out of here for a while.

Pattern

I remember reading an article a while back, can't remember where, about how the human mind is essentially geared to look for and recognize certain patterns, the shape of a human face, for instance. It's an instinct... a skill set that's hardwired into us, ostensibly so we wouldn't get eaten by tigers or something. The article goes on to say that the human mind even tries to find patterns in places where they don't exist. It's where you get kids making the clouds out to be dragons, or kittens or what have. How we got that famous face on Mars, and why there are conspiracy theorists. Misfires. Because the human brain apparently needs to do this. But does it recognize breaks in patterns as well? The one thing that doesn't fit in a crowd?
I'd like to think so. If the human brain is geared towards patterns, it seems to make sense that it should recognize changes to them.

So let me tell you about houses. The houses on my street, most of them have christmas lights. Or lights period. You can see them as you walk down the street. Except for a few of them. A house with no lights on, no cars in the driveway, sitting on it's own at the end of the street gives me an... off sort of feeling. One of these things doesn't belong, you know?

And I'm going to get into touchy feely stuff, because the season sort of merits it. Christmas is that whole family thing, but I'll be spending it five hours away from mine, with my mother's sister, for assorted reasons. The least of which is that I have no desire to see my father, a miserable, hateful, decrepit, alcoholic excuse for a human being for whom death cannot come soon enough.

Things with Miranda are going well, though she's still glaring at me if I so much as mention the homeless guy from the other day. I've got a week until I take my train ride. Probably spend the whole thing liveblogging, if anyone cares to enjoy it.

Caffeine withdrawal has started to subside. I expect I'll spend at least a week of the break sick as a dog post finals. But I've got a dinner date on wednesday (also the last of my exams), and need to finish this website.

What the fuck?

We were downtown for class today, and Miranda flipped out. At a homeless guy in a wheelchair.
I think that sums up what happened fairly accurately. Exam stress must be getting to her or something.

We're on our way back from the field trip downtown, visiting an office, about to catch the bus, and all of a sudden, from behind me I hear Miranda start swearing. At least I assume it was swearing, judging by the tone. I'm assuming because I think there were at least four different languages in there. She starts going at the guy in french. I know a *little* but she was talking way too fast for me to pick up more than every sixth word.

You have to understand, this is fucking out of character for her. Incredibly out of fucking character. I have never seen Miranda flip the fuck out on someone like that. Not on her worst days. So I have no idea what this idiot did to get her going like that. I knew she spoke french, but I think there was some italian and german thrown in there for good measure. At least when she was cursing.

In any case, the entire street now staring at them (myself notwithstanding) Miranda finally manages to get a hold of herself, leaves the wheelchair guy alone. And when she gets close enough, she shoots me this look. You know the sort right? The ones that contain volumes of information without actually needing anything more than a glance? This one said "Don't even fucking think about asking." Did I mention she was... I think grinning is the right word. What the fuck have I gotten into here?

I'm going to go back to this thing I was working on then. The break cannot get here fucking fast enough.

More updates

So, I've talked with Miranda. Good news! She knows about this blog. (Hi Miranda)

How to best go about this then? Well, let's start with the obvious update. Caffeine free:

I'm still doing pretty good without the caffeine. My sleeping had normalized a little before we went into "OH SHIT EXAMS TIME" and I started fucking with my sleep again. At this point I'm catching naps or scraps of sleep whenever I can.

Suffice it to say, sticking with my personal challenge is proving harder than expected.

Miranda: Take the chance to thank Rynia here. Miranda found me liveblogging MH (part of the reason that's on hold) and recognized it. How you recognize one shaky cam video out of a few dozen I don't know. We got to palavering and things followed. That was a few days back.
She's... yeah let's go with 'intense' as a word to describe her. Apparently I am seeing her. This was an... I think this qualifies as an ultimatum.

Update time

So, we're now at.. the end of a week, I think.
One week sans caffeine. I'm not doing terribly well at this point. My sleeping is completely thrown off. Maybe I should have just tried giving this up in march or something? I'm starting to come down with something. Not surprising. Gotta to get around to getting my flu shot before I head to Toronto for the holiday.

So, yeah, might as well cover that there. I'm heading to Toronto for the winter break. Don't expect too much from me during that period. It's probably the most social interaction I'm likely to get for the next six months, I intend to make the most of it.

The date with Miranda (that's her name, incidentally) went... badly. I either couldn't shut up, or couldn't articulate my thoughts properly, neither is a good extreme. I blame the lack of caffeine. We did get to watch Dead Snow without my running commentary (understand, this is rare), but she caught the bus right after that. Quiet the whole way.

I kind of get the feeling I fucked that one up, quite a bit.

I was walking home this evening and realized I could see Orion. I don't think that I could live in a place where I couldn't see the stars. It's just not possible.

I got home, having left the light in my room on. For a second, I thought that... well it was stupid of me. Let's leave it at that.

About last night

Spectacularly bad.
At least, I think so. I haven't talked with her since last night.
I've got class in... two and a half hours.
So we'll see how that goes.