Now that the Discussed Subject is physically available and has been placed in a confined environment, it shall make observation a simpler asset, as well as produce more precise, fruitful, and accurate results. Discussed Subject (who I shall discreetly name DS) is not currently in near proximity, for though their intelligence level is at times stagnant, DS is capable of being startlingly alert when need be. This is currently not an urgent concern, given that we will be in each other's company and do not expect to stray from this location within the next upcoming years. This gives this researcher ample time to gather information, as well as complete some personal goals of my own.
Today, as per usual, seemed to be an unceremonious day on the ship. Rose had the lab to herself. She had a plate of toast with jam at her side along with her research books. With the redecorating finished the remaining "crew" had taken to wandering about the meteor in search of something to occupy themselves. It gave Rose the space to sit down and write.
Current habitat, in this researcher's opinion, differs little from DS's usual residence. I consider it as such due to being unable to physically witness the previous habitat (a small apartment complex located in a populated city in the state of Texas, USA, Earth) first hand. However I have been given descriptions of such over the years, as noted in earlier entries. Cramped bedroom with limited supplies, narrow halls to amp of anxiety in impending strife sparring, has a quota of one (1) creepy clown-related infestation, and no notable obligations for cleanliness. At present DS is aloof and converses with few, those being with a subspecies of his own kind. (Side Note: will analyze the Troll psychology when given more information and interaction. Side Side Note: in addition, a generous short-horned donor has shared his notes on the complex subject of troll relations to add to the collection). Granted these close encounters are inevitable since I happen to be the only other of his kind here. Also granted the subspecies in question, aside from physical and cultural differences, highly resembles the human form. That is except for his other companion, whom is not a troll but one of the citizens from the Derse moon, and seldom says anything at all.
Rose could not stand the thought of having nothing to focus on. Though it honestly felt she was the only one on this ship making any amount of effort with the spare time she'd been given. Plan for the destination. Research. Flex abilities. And of course there should be time scraped to the side to make companions. Mother did always encourage her to make friends. And just what other time could be better to practice human interactions than to continue profiling her most interesting subject?
What worries me is his behavior. Subject has experienced trauma and loss in the past month or so, and this may have led him to divulge in and possibly regress to simpler pleasures. DS has previously shown to express himself through quality questionable artistic activities. These include construing "sick rhymes" containing "risqué" (as risqué as the adolescent mind comprehends it) in hopes of receiving a "Mature Content" (again, adolescent mind) label on an album that will never be, and drawing surrealistic comics which could drive a Donne scholar mad, even if these comics contain the same intelligence level of material. As of late he has been seen succumbing to sketching fictional environments through chalk drawings and acting out plotlines via stuffed dragons with aforementioned companions. This scenario can be reminiscent of a group of children on a blacktop. How fitting.
New information has cropped up since most recent entry. Particularly in regards to heritage and familial connections.
The sound of the transportalizer from the far center of the room let out a few notes. Rose did not detract her sight from the text she was penning.
Until now I was well aware DS's guardian was the closest connection to any sort of parental unit, but I had not considered this was his only familial connection period. Although, I assume he had not given the same sort of thought to my own given situation. (I'm afraid to admit I could have been projecting unknowingly. Or simply unassuming of the sci-fi plot twist our lives have become.)
A loud slam interrupted her thoughts. It sounded like the pot on the counter where the coffee maker was. Rose turned around for a brief moment, seeing Dave's cape following behind him. His usual self, disheveled hair and indoor shades that somehow manages to suit him. He stopped at the coffee machine, as he did every morning. To her it was as if coming across a mammal exiting their quarters at the zoo. The coffee machine began to gurgle. Rose returned to her writing.
This researcher may elaborate upon that subject on a later date. Though while it is on my mind, I would also like to mention DS has acquired a new set of power. To manipulate his place in time, more specifically a timeline, one of the more potentially dangerous offered among us. Subject thankfully only makes use of it when necessary, and in the process displays problem solving skills and creativity. At the very least, this researcher has faith the fabric of the universe won't fall apart for the time being. This researcher will, however, speculate that not only does this contribute to his ego, but also a sense of control that would add to his possible, and I would advise the reader to find a place to sit, superiority complex. Shocking I know.
"Goddamn, how many of those do you have?" Dave said from across the room. Her pen stopped midsentence. Rose would note the tiredness creasing his voice from the far side of the room if she wasn't excavating his traits already.
"If you are referring to my notebook I've been forced to improvise with the recent loss of my laptop." said Rose, still facing away from Dave, "It contained a number of my important files and it pains me to, no pun intended, start from scratch again. I can't simply bunch everything into one place. That would cause it to be convoluted."
All of their personalized items were left behind with their previous bodies. She still felt remorse over the loss of the hand-knit laptop-cozy. While they had computers most of her personal storage was now kept in the books of various sizes and length stacked around the desk. Rose uses leaves so many of her items on it it is just collectively known as "Rose's desk" without any spoken clarification. Rose does not even know what she will do with what she writes but as usual it will return to them when needed. (And it also gives an excuse to use her fancy purple pen.)
"So, what, you've got one for every subject you've ever talked about? Are you aiming to start your own encyclopedia collection?" His shadow fell over the page Rose was writing on. She felt his presence but had not heard him approaching. "Is that more of your wizard-y fanfic drivel?"
Rose slammed the book shut. "You have no concept of privacy, do you?" Contorting in her chair to face him, she noticed his feet were floating above the floor. In person Dave often had a habit of reading over your shoulder, she was beginning to notice, and it was becoming quite intolerable or her. "Why are you still wearing your cape?"
"Why are you wearing your tangerine hoodie?"
"It's very comfortable. Also it somehow suits me."
"Same reason. Also it's the only clothing I got after we created a sun."
There are many personal traits that he as well as her new teammates had which irked Rose. Things like never washing his hands and leaving chalky fingerprints on the things he took. While she was looking up at him and considering that his hands were still like that now, marked with turquoise ashes, he snatched the book from her hands and jumped back.
"Please give that back, Dave." Rose requested. Her hand gripped her chair. Dave instead moved further down the room, flipping through the pages. She sighed.
"Damn, you spend all your time on this and even the stuff I comprehend I can't read." said Dave.
Rose forced herself to push her seat back and get up from her chair. She was not pleased with being interrupted. Why wasn't life better now that her schooling and music practice were currently out of the way? Never underestimate the certainty of free time being monopolized by other people, she supposed. Rose stepped forward and lunged for the book, but Dave swiftly pulled back. She reached for it again, so he jumped and his body floated upward. The corner of his mouth may have twitched.
"You're immature." Rose stated.
"Geez Rose, way to find a way to cram the word 'disconcerted' into a sentence." said Dave, reading further.
Rose was not amused. "Don't make me float up there to come get you, young man." said Rose
"What, you gonna patronize your harshest critic? Gonna call me out in your comeback single? Start a rap battle up in here?"
"Fine. I'll simply sit here until you choose to come down. How does that make you feel, Dave?" He groaned. After years of Rose practicing psychology on her friends that has become his least favorite question.
The way he was floating up there reminded her more of a spaceman than a superhero, even with the cape. Getting him down would require knowing his weak point. She wanted to identify and analyze it, for his gain and not hers, of course.
"Do you recognize the manner in which you are behaving right now?" Rose asked, "It may reflect quite a bit on your psychology. Such as your competitive nature, especially with me in particular. It may be a strong indicator for, say, that sibling rivalry complex of yours."
That's when Dave managed to halt in midair. He slammed the book shut. "Nope."
"It especially makes clear sense given our relations."
"No. No no no no. It is too early to deal with this."
"Dave, it's close to noon."
"Still too early. Always too early when it comes to that subject."
Rose smirked. The ball was in her field, or however those sports rules worked. "How are you reacting to my observations, Dave? Uncomfortable? You appear to be having a knee-jerk response."
"Nope-nope nopety-nope." He groaned. "Look, can we just drop this? You being my sibling is all a technicality. Just some loophole."
"Well, technically speaking…" she almost said "your Bro isn't your sibling either" but that may be stepping the boundaries past teasing fun. "…you can't deny reality."
"Don't you ever have fun?" he asked, "Why don't you loosen up your tight-ass and stop delving into creepy Oedipal complexes your friends don't have."
"Oh, but Oedipal complexes are my favorite pastime."
"Plus we weren't raised that way so it doesn't matter. It's just a bunch of chemicals getting mixed together. That changes nothing"
When Rose observed Dave again, searching for outward signs of an inward struggle. He landed on the ground and slammed the book on the table.
"Look, this has all been talked about. It's done. Outie 5000. Remixing the conversation only skips over the same tracks until it gets old." Rose wondered if his metaphor was so tangled up so no one could reach the original truth. Though admittedly, Rose was a sucker for a good convoluted metaphor.
Dave transported out of the room once again. All the while the coffee pot had burned, leaving Rose to wonder how neither of them noticed it screeching. At the very least, Rose was relieved to have her book back, despite a few chalk fingerprints here and there.
Rose reopened the book, picked up her pen and jotted down one more sentence. These combining factors could be his response to some type of separation anxiety from home, finding difficulty in welcoming and replacing it with the new.
After that encounter, Dave had not been seen for the next few days. Rose did not pay much notice to it at first, until Terezi ran out her usual habitat into an abrupt halt (not unusual behavior for a Pyrope).
"Have you seen Dave anywhere?" Terezi asked Rose.
"Not today I haven't. Would our faithful Mayor happen to know?"
"The Mayor doesn't leave Can Town. He has priorities." In the corner of the room, the renowned Mayor was nibbling on an empty Tab can while drawing over the picture of a yellow sun on the wall with white chalk. "The sun rises and sets with the Mayor of Can Town." said Terezi.
Rose had more questions but was shooed away when she didn't have the answer Terezi wanted.
When Rose visited Karkat's door to ask him if he had spoken with Dave, his response was a note slipped under the door reading "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…" which filled up the both sides of the page.
The obvious option was to pass by Dave's room to check up on him. But like an unexpected battalion her attention was grabbed in full by a racket so loud it could be heard playing from the end of the hall. It was of course emerging from Dave's room. It sounded something resembling music, but mostly a buzz with mixed in voices blasting from those speakers he had.
The door was locked. There was a note taped to it. Ironic Simple Plan Appreciation Week. No one is invited. The note was written in red crayon. The words that could be made out through the amplified buzz expressed how life for the singer is so hard and nobody understands.
Rose knocked on the door. If he could hear her, there was no sign of it. In terms of psychological profiles to examine she momentarily wished for Jade's bad social skills or John's personal losses, but instead she was strapped in with the strong and silent type.
No answer. Even if Dave himself did not make any noise in his room or it could not be heard, he was still in there, so would not matter for now.
The struggles DS exhibits continues in a new form of isolation from peers. It's unlike the subject to grasp this hard for attention, she wrote, or at the very least be this obvious about it. Perhaps he is oblivious of it himself.
The only other being here Rose wished to comfortably discuss this with was Kanaya, but she claimed to be busy "cleaning up" around the ship. Perhaps, Rose considered this could encourage her into interacting with others on this ship besides Kanaya and Dave. But Terezi and Karkat had similar isolation issues, and Gamzee's psyche was too much a tangled swamp for her to want to touch.
None of them were too concerned about this music marathon at first. It would not be noticed if one stayed away from that particular hall, but the tone was unmistakable and toiled the eardrums regardless. That was until it somehow got louder from the other end of the wall (Dave was better at tech than they realized) and in an instant each of them could hear from the common room to the science lab about how the singer has no friends because nobody can understands him. But the alt metal was beginning to get to the minds of the crew.
Now that Rose could not avoid this tactic, and after their previous conversation, this was less of a personal journey and more of getting Dave to turn the sound down (not too different from Karkat's movie marathons). He had to come out sometime or another.
But it was there and would not go away. In fact, all of this could be a new project to occupy her time. Privacy be damned, she stopped by the door to Dave's room once again to make her second attempt.
"Dave?" Rose asked, knocking on the door. Still no response. "Dave how long can you keep this up?"
In theory, it was until starvation. He had to eat something. Or perhaps, being immortal, it didn't matter. All of this could mean only one thing: more material for her journal.
"Dave if this continues I'll have no choice but to place this into your file!" Rose did not have many tactics for this type of thing, as her friends are usually up for any slight challenge. What was different about this, she wondered? "Okay I'm off to do so!"
She'd later realize he'd manage to steal her toast anyway.
Speaking as an independent under-under grad psychologist I am not one to exploit stereotypes or harmful misconceptions. Admittedly, it is tempting to relate every core issue in a person to the tie of their parental unit, mother or father or lack thereof. In theory it comes across as reasonable since in most cases they are the core of how we come to exist. However it does not seem to me the height of professionalism to vie for the easy solution.
My conclusion is that not every issue in a person directly correlates with their childhood or the circumstances in which they were raised. But in the case of DS his parental unit can't be replaced, and it can't be me that replaces him.
Upon being reminded of her own parental units, Rose sipped from her martini glass. It was standing tall and full on her desk alongside the rest of her books and an empty plate with fallen crumbs. She imagined it appeared to be very fancy.
Side note: apologize for the spills marked on a few of the pages. At the very least it occurred while they were blank and with nothing important written on them.
Come to think of it, it had not been long since they lost their guardians and moved into space for this journey. It was like the universe's worst summer camp. Allegedly. Rose's point of view would not know the nuanced differences between being on an empty space ship and actual summer camp. It reminded her more of what her summers were really like, the last man on Earth type sci-fi stories she perused through growing up. At the time she wanted every human who bothered her to disappear but her. That was before she had friends, and now, they are some of the last humans she has left.
Looking down at the drink, this all gave her an idea for her very next strategy. The time had already come for a new approach, the personal approach.
So Rose once again she found herself in that hall, at that door, enduring that same tune. In this one the singer's parents are awful cause they just don't understand. She knocked once again.
"Are you alright?" Rose said, in a more sympathetic tone, "I'm always here if you wish to speak about something. I'm being entirely serious."
Waiting for a response from Dave was not the most unusual thing. When he or her other friends went unresponsive Rose would usually wander about her mansion, with a lingering pretense that she was being avoided. Rose cleared her throat, as if she rehearsed this.
"Did I ever tell you my mom was a member of my school's PTA? She was quite enthusiastic about it, if I recall correctly, even if she wasn't very skilled at what she tried. No one found her helpful. But I believe she cared more and had more dedication than any of the other mothers. Rose trailed off.
"How could this happen to me, I've made my mistakes…" As she was explaining the story, Dave chose this moment to turn the volume up on the song she did not know the tile of but heard the chorus many times over.
"And I didn't appreciate it either. Of course, until now-"
"the night goes on as I'm fading awaaaaaay…"
"That isn't funny, Dave." The song continued. Rose pursed her lips together. "If you choose to react then you could have the courtesy to at the very least talk to me."
"I just wanna screeeeeaaaam…How could this happen to meeeeeeeeee… :( "
It was not long before retreated to keep the song from getting stuck in her head. Rose recalled that particular song was advertised to stop teens from drinking and driving. The act of listening to it did a terrible job of convincing anyone not to do the former.
Should it be deemed a crime, dear reader, to persecute someone for their poor music tastes in their adolescent youth? Oh dear, now I'm the one who sounds like a hipster.
Rose considered her options. Just who else besides herself was capable of convincing Dave into listening? At first she considered Terezi in Can Town, a close companion and possible love interest, but the teal-blood's issues had the depth to fill its own tome. So talking out her problems was not her specialty. Karkat was not much better, perhaps having identical solutions via isolation until the problem goes bye-bye.
That was the core of the problem. Each of them so coiled in themselves unable to see on the outside. No! She was far from giving up! One more go. It was all or nothing.
So she marched, with notes it tow, and found something she did not expect to see. For whatever reason the door was open and a familiar Dersite was standing there. And the visitor outside of it was none other than the friendly demeanor of the Mayor. He was exchanging a familiar jam jar for fresh sticks of chalk. The two made eye contact. The Mayor blinked, tapping his fingers on each other in nervousness, creating small tik tik tik sounds.
So that's how he obtained her toast!
"Traitor!" Rose cried, "I expected better from you, you enabler!" She squinted at the Mayor.
At that, the door slammed shut. All her eyes caught were a blur of his shades and time symbol. The "music" was playing on. The Mayor now appeared sullen and nervous, being caught as a culprit in the act, to which Rose simply felt frustrated enough to pound on the door.
"You can't hide from your problems for the next three years!" she said, "You must acknowledge them sometime!"
When Rose ignored yet again, and upon turning around, the Mayor was backing away from her as well.
"Don't look at me as if I am not at fault!" Rose said, louder than expected. "Toast thief!"
The smaller one only nodded as he backed further away, until he skittered down the hall without an explanation.
"Y'know what if someone started pegging you for your problems? You wouldn't like it."
Once Dave's voice surfaced from the other side of the door, for a moment Rose felt that she should be more surprised. But it was only a few days without hearing that drawl, and had been even longer before hearing it for the first time. Just like him she imagined and recreated that voice in her head for years on end and inevitably did not sync to the real thing. What was good though, was that he answered, and Rose was prepared with a rebuttal.
"Your problems which you…don't have, of course." said Rose, "And you solve these nonexistent problems by trapping yourself?"
"Doesn't bother me," said Dave, "And that's exactly what you do. Criticizing me is criticizing yourself."
"So you admit there's something wrong? How does that make you feel, Dave?" That used to be a genuine question to ask, but now it's just a tease. "You have to feel something."
"I did but it lessened over time. The same thing you did. Will you just cut it out? Stop taking every word I say and twist it to fit into your messed up psychoanalysis. Think I can't play that game? I could dedicate an entire blog to how you like to push people's buttons and use big words annoy them. What about you and your non-moping? Isn't what you define as crazy?"
Rose discovered that more than anything, his silence did one thing for her. She could speak all she wanted and would not be criticized for it.
"I did react. You just weren't there to see it." They both new she was referring to going grimdark. Rose was thankful for the barrier there was between his eyes and her expression. Or her fumbling fingers.
"Why you gotta make everything weird? You've always been my friend. Being my sister, being dragged into my family, that's an entirely different thing." Dave took a breath, like he was preparing for a next verse. "You want me to tell you how I feel, Rose? I feel when I find out the closest thing I've got to a mother is some neglectful drunkard located in another state? I'll tell you how I feel about that: not surprised in the slightest!"
He likely meant for that statement to offend Rose and write her off, yet another nonchalant remark, but this only made her more concerned. Rose felt she did not have issues due to a lack of a father figure. Certainly that absence was there, and she had questions that weren't answered until now, but it did not consume her or influence her poetry more than usual.
But this didn't feel like a game anymore, and for the first time Rose felt as if she had pushed too far and wanted to pull back. Even worse this was an open opportunity. A link between the "mother" and the issue. A perfect strike. Pushing and pushing him, not even considering the possibility of toppling over her friend.
But it is what finally kept her quiet.
"Okay," said Rose, "…I'm sorry then. This is a sincere apology."
"For what? For keeping her?" said Dave.
"I did not intend to push you so far." Rose said, "but I do apologize. All I wanted to do was help but…you claim there is no problem anyhow."
She took notice that this entire time, Simple Plan was still inappropriately playing, but the sound was turned down. The singer is expressing how his friends must not care about him because neither of them ever bother to freaking call each other.
"I shouldn't be takin that apology, but 'least it's something."
"So am I forgiven?"
"Psh, no. I can take apologies but don't just dish out forgiveness." She could not tell for certain, but she could almost swear she heard a smirk in that statement.
"Would you prefer…time to yourself until you feel it is appropriate?"
The next expected move was yet another witty slam, but instead the best thing ever happened. The whiney Canadian band was shut off and did not turn back on again.
Rose stepped away reluctantly. But on the other hand, she now has nothing to keep her from penning that novel that's been knocking around her head for some time, and writing good literature is quite the debilitating task.
DS has expressed a want for distance, a pushback from my personal treatment. But at the same time some amount of a breakthrough. This professional does not choose to make personal statements on the matter. One would think studying human behavior when you are one would make a simple and engaging job, but humans change over time, no matter how similar they seem in the intervening time. For now one can only hope these notes stay relevant in time.
omfg really rose is this really what youve been doing with your spare time? heres a psycho evaluation written by my own freaking self RL has got the unfortunate condition of not keeping outta other peoples bizsnatch. all leading to jealousy of DS's music tastes and hanging outside his door like a reverse john cusack. outie citation not needed.
Nice to see you out of your room, Dave. Wink
goddammit ugghghghgghgh