Dark Passages

this morning i was pondering my early childhood. i was kidnapped twice as a young child. no parental disputes or anything. i wasn't even a particularly cute child, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. a lot.

the first time is the one i don't have any recollection of. i guess this comes to mind because of my recent use of ambien which leads me to some short term memory problems, pretty much just things get fuzzy just before i get to bed. i don't do anything tragic... funny, sure, but nothing really beyond forgetting to brush my teeth.

but i was thinking of things that i didn't remember... like when i was kidnapped when i was two. i don't remember this at all. how much does anyone remember about being two? but then i thought about all the people going through hypnotherapy to regain memories of their uncles abusing them or fathers raping them. i guess it's good to know, but i have absolutely no desire to remember what happened on those few days when i was two.

i think that perhaps having been down so many dark passages that i do remember, i don't even want to know what is down that hallway. as i get older, i start thinking that ignorance really is bliss. the age of my wanting to fight dragons is waning and i find myself just wanting some peace. some quiet.

i back away from people that are full of drama. i help people from an arm's length away.

i'm tired. so tired. i don't want to look for trouble.

i figure if tribulation makes you a better person, then i'm happy with who i am. and mostly, i am. that which i wish to change about myself i'm working on. i love my yoga practice. i love my tension tamer tea and my fish. i love my husband and our beautiful home and two cats.

what would knowing what happened when i was two do for me?

there is a stong dislike of people that i'm building... but not just any random people. the people that either know what they want and are too lazy to do it, or those that just don't know what they want. if that doesn't cover the whole of the population, add to that that i don't like people that just go with the flow because they can't even make up their mind to change what they're doing.

i get unhappy, sure, i whine. but eventually i pull it together and go after what i want. just because i stubbed my toe doesn't mean that i'm not finishing the race. it's just my toe, right?

i think that at this advanced age i've seen and been a party to some of the shittiest things people can do to one another. and that might not be such a tragedy to my view if it was for a purpose. and not that "my daddy spanked me" crap. humanity has survived far worse than a little hiney whuppin.

in fact, instead of looking at all that you lost, think of what strength you gained by not repeating mistakes that were made at you. remember the golden rule? it doesn't say "treat others how they treat you" it says "treat others as you would be treated"

i try to do that as much as i can. i think it's nice, a good way to have a general standoff of people being at least pleasant to one another without dragging god down to start throwing people into pits of fire. "be good for goodness sake"

here i am, making my art... working my bliss... and there's a kazillion other people doing what they don't want to do and they're bitter. they want to blow up on me because of choices they made with their lives. i could still be in my small town. i could be designing flowers. i could be selling pizzas. but i made choices, decisions, often very difficult decisions to get where i am now.

now i don't sleep much. i work constantly. i see my name here and there. a few people recognise me or think i'm special or that they should know me. i'm interested to see what this will turn into. i'm naturally suspicious. always minding my boarders.

is this bad? "there's always piranahs, watch out for piranahs." i don't know... i'm feeling a stressed melancholy. like a late night at a party where you know you're supposed to be having fun, but you keep drinking because the party isn't what you thought it was going to be. you don't really know the people, and you don't really want to get to know them. they're just these people. replicants. people that you see at parties but never talk to. don't want to talk to. modern social vampires?

but i digress...i feel like the drunken hostess greeting people to my party, but who isn't otherwise terribly involved. maybe that's what i've been wanting. i don't know. i'm not complaining, exactly... it's just strange to me that by moving to a new room, i found more people to dislike. maybe i'm just getting old and cranky.

i don't even know where to begin. so many dreams have passed now. i'm recently enthralled with strange things... gravity is my new hero. you can't doubt gravity, you can't debate it, it's there, like it or not.

i like it. it's one of the few tangible things that i feel really good about, too. i mean, gravity doesn't really have an agenda... it's just there. being gravity. not caring one bit what you think about it. or if you think about it. gravity is cool that way.

this is a new theme. much more absolute than my balance-seeking. although, yoga, if it has taught me nothing else, it's that i don't have a very natural center of balance. which is why i guess i have to seek it rather than maintain it.

but i don't have trouble maintaining gravity. nice gravity, sweet gravity.

another thing i'm thinking about a lot is this idea of being a predator. i'd initially thought of writing a "journal" of what i would be like, what it would be like to be a killer of some flavor. i even outlined some ideas i had. i may still do it... i don't know. i'm very caught up in the photography right now.

i think i'd like to make some room in my schedule to write. write fiction, of course. i'm not terribly great at fact-based reporting stuff. you can ask any of my journalism teachers in college. there was just no beating my own slant or style out of my writing. and maybe that's as it should be. what fun are facts sans slant, right? isn't that part of what makes salon.com so popular?

anyway, i'm off my predator idea. that's ok, i guess. this isn't really about being perfectly readable, just a peek into my mind, if you're not already freaked out by the photos :D which aren't really freaky, but there you go.

i think as a woman, it's ingrained in me to be afraid. afraid of wild bands of men prowling the streets looking for someone to rob/rape/maim/murder in whatever order that may be in. it would be interesting to go into the world knowing that YOU are the world's biggest fear.

of course, i don't think it's in me to murder someone, even if there's a good case for their extinction. not so much because of the person themselves, but because of the possibly generally good people that will mourn them. few people go out of their way to raise the perfect killer. few people look forward to the day their progeny goes into the world and kills others, or does something destructive.

heh... few parents probably are very happy to have their children turn into smut peddlers. but that's life. things happen.

but to just not care... i'm not sure if it would be hard or bliss. it's an idea i'm playing with. maybe after all of the balance, i want some absolutes. who knows. brains are strange things.