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part three I did what before/after I did what...? Part 3: the test. Here, I'd like to write about the test. But it is difficult to do so. I may be in the minority, but sometimes when something...hurts, is stressful, or otherwise painful either physically or emotionally, its difficult to write about it. At some point I will write about it. It is incredibly therapeutic to write about anything painful. I feel as though I've encountered a lot of pain, a lot of stressful situations, a lot of straight-up abuse, and I must have done one of two things: either let it go or swallowed it whole. Put another way, I realize that life is transient and impermanent. So I don't cling to it or the things that happen, instead choosing to let go, live in the moment and embrace love and happiness as I find it, or make it, or otherwise cause it to appear. But what if I'm fooling myself? What if I've pushed it down, down, down inside me, never to be let out, until one day I shake of the remnants of my sanity like an old shabby worn-out coat? I suppose that's for me to decide, isn't it? Isn't life what we make of it, really? Roll that one around your head for awhile: just as you are the author of your happiness, you are the author of your misery. You are entirely responsible for your destiny. NOW, having said that, maybe post-hoc try to figure out your values. I like to think that at some point I'll write about it all. But maybe I just feel the grains of the days slipping through my fingers. When I was a kid I felt all I had was time. Now, I feel as though I long for a measure of peace, satisfaction, or otherwise a lack of desire. Failing that, I'd like to make this world a better place for us all, even in a small measure in my corner of paradise. Or at least get people to see a bigger picture than themselves, or embrace some empathy. Anyway, looking at the arc of the story that I cobbled, its lumpen and insane. True, though, I do tie it back to certain events, some of which I never wrote about, like wanting to be president as a child, and deciding that being an attorney was the way to do that, because politicians seemed to be overwhelmingly lawyers. Or later, learning in school to trust myself, be confident in myself, my opinions, the things I know when even the teacher and the class lined up against me. Only to be proven right, Mrs. S. Only to be proven right. --digression--what kind of 3 and 4th grade teacher gets off on sadistically bullying children? Christ, she used to lean into me with those mirrored shades, just mean as fuck in a low, threatening voice. I could smell the coffee and cigarettes on her breath. But really, that level of intimidation and threats...with a kid. I just don't get it. Where in life is that necessary? I'd ask where she learned it, but I'm positive she experienced it as a kid. Sadly most people learn only one way to interface with others of different social strata and social roles, and never abandon the first schema or strategy their imprinted from the adults in their life, the authority figures. Then never let that go and perpetuate cycles of abuse. You see, this is where that 'empathy' thing I was talking about would play in. Seeing the world from another's eyes. But you knew that, didn't you.---/digression Anyway, this story frustrates me a little, because it could be expansive, and should be more expansive than the short-shrift I give it here. And then, for some reason, I'm going to write not about the second to the last time I tripped last year, in August, but I will fast forward towards the end of September/October, before I even got the results back, and talk briefly about the last time I tripped, and what I think was actually a ghost out in the forest that I saw. And that's the thing: it has nothing to do, really, with where I am now in my venture in life. What is extraordinary, to me, is that my friend saw it too. To the point where we both tried to pretend that we didn't see it, only to admit it later unprompted, which is a far-cry from 'yeah, I see it, too.' My friend refuses to talk about it. I wanted to follow her into the forest. Getting chills just thinking about it. Anyway, I have to capture it before the moment is gone. Maybe tomorrow. But this is the truth: it has nothing to do with where I am right now, and does not fit in this story arc whatsoever. Having said that, I feel like I'm in a decent enough place, much akin to where I was in undergrad, prior to going girl/booze crazy. I suppose I was always crazy. And I've always like girls. But at some point...I just learned. Or I like to think I have. I re-read these pages lately, and I would like to reach into my pages and kick myself for all the obvious signs women have given me through the years--beautiful, gorgeous, vivacious women, all willing to take a risk on me. And me? Maybe it was all the abuse. The years of fighting making me feel less than I am. No more, though. Or not as much, anyway. The exercise helps, though. Physically being much larger than most people due to lifting weights and exercise is actually pretty fucking nice. I get a lot of fucking consideration. And I don't have to worry about anyone fucking with me. But that may also be due to the look in my eye because of the things I've seen and done. Things I've survived. Fears I let go of long ago. When you get boiled down to the essential you, fired in the crucible, reduced to the integral...all the fat of indulgence swept away...that alone is scary to some people. Even to people who have truly suffered, which I find amazing.
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