Handshakes and Nods
When I first started to connect with people by choice, not forced by school or family functions, friends of my parents or older brother, it was an unlikely chance meeting, mutual escapism from forced social obligations. We just happened to both try hiding under the same bleachers and unhappily found each other. I think the fact that we hid together was the only thing that saved us from being forced to join the large groups either cheering or playing sports, so we stuck it out and decided to make the best of sharing our hiding space.
It didn't take long before I fell in love, but it took me six years to realize that's what I felt. I never had the guts to tell her that I knew her book from a text based computer game, but Douglas Adams was our unlikely chance bond. She was reading his book, there under the bleachers, which would have saved me hours of frustration had I read Adams' bible before playing the game. Regardless how we got there, our shared knowledge of babble fish and starships with hearts of gold were the tenuous link that kept us talking. She always was smarter than me, better than me, more well adjusted. Who I wished I could be like, if I wasn't so busy struggling to just survive and navigate the world. Maybe if I read more, like her, I'd have had it all figured it out, instead of trying to write through my confusion thinking there is some inspiration to be found in the elegance of finding my own words. She played instruments well too, read sheet music with ease, was unafraid of numbers and excelled at math. For fun, she read the dictionary, I think just to alienate others more than anything else, but it enamored me with her even more.
Passion was foreign to me then, I was all about learning as much about the world as I could and suppressing as much of my own emotions as possible, as they amounted to a whole lot of fear of being crazy. Whatever the opposite of Xenophobia is, I was it, afraid of the unknown and foreign inside of me, that I hid and suppressed it as much as possible. I had no idea who I was, my emotions terrified me, I only knew who I though I should be, logical and rational - and was anything but, so divorced from most of myself.
That geeky girl opened a new world for me, one I've kept striving to join, but still don't quite feel like I've made it to. She introduced me to a whole world of authentic people, unafraid of their lives, unafraid of themselves. Comfortable in their own skin.
I always wanted that, and close to me. An extended family of friends to always have around, if maybe only so some of that comfort might rub off on me, or at least keep my crazy in check. I led a pretty isolated childhood, hiding in the closet or in the woods, occasionally under water. I did have my grandparents and their piano, which one would think would have led me to be a virtuoso, but for the lack of lessons, or allowed time to practice when I finally did get to start them. My mother came from a long line of adoptions and divorces. My grandfather from a huge dysfunctional catholic french/polish family all living close by. I got to see two types of family ties. My own family unit had to be home by 5pm sharp before dad got home or there was hell to pay, which didn't allow much time between when school got out and then. We feared the days when dad started coming home early, or just not going to work at all.
We weren't allowed out of the yard if Dad was home and of course, no one ever wanted come over. With all the time I spent isolated at home, you'd think I'd have gotten supremely comfortable with myself, but the urge to get out of there just made me crawl in my own skin.
With the advent of phone calls to friends, I spent hours detailing the extended family life I wanted, with one of those authentic friends. The phone was one way I could bridge the gap of distance without anyone actually having to leave the house, or endure my father's nastiness. This was before the age of internet. We both had ideals on the practice of polyamory, multi-partner households, based on friendship, love, mutual interest, shared goals and respect for each individual. We worked out our thoughts and planned a better world where people were nice to one another and could live together without too many labels or jealousy getting in the way of supporting each other as individuals. Which I have successfully achieved, if you ignore the fact that my household members are almost all of the feline persuasion. I guess it's hard for other people to be comfortable with you, when you aren't comfortable with yourself.
I have learned many universal lessons from my cats though. Like: If you feed them, they will stay. To that end, I've become adept at showing my affection through providing food, and put on a few extra pounds in the process.
....
It didn't take long before I fell in love, but it took me six years to realize that's what I felt. I never had the guts to tell her that I knew her book from a text based computer game, but Douglas Adams was our unlikely chance bond. She was reading his book, there under the bleachers, which would have saved me hours of frustration had I read Adams' bible before playing the game. Regardless how we got there, our shared knowledge of babble fish and starships with hearts of gold were the tenuous link that kept us talking. She always was smarter than me, better than me, more well adjusted. Who I wished I could be like, if I wasn't so busy struggling to just survive and navigate the world. Maybe if I read more, like her, I'd have had it all figured it out, instead of trying to write through my confusion thinking there is some inspiration to be found in the elegance of finding my own words. She played instruments well too, read sheet music with ease, was unafraid of numbers and excelled at math. For fun, she read the dictionary, I think just to alienate others more than anything else, but it enamored me with her even more.
Passion was foreign to me then, I was all about learning as much about the world as I could and suppressing as much of my own emotions as possible, as they amounted to a whole lot of fear of being crazy. Whatever the opposite of Xenophobia is, I was it, afraid of the unknown and foreign inside of me, that I hid and suppressed it as much as possible. I had no idea who I was, my emotions terrified me, I only knew who I though I should be, logical and rational - and was anything but, so divorced from most of myself.
That geeky girl opened a new world for me, one I've kept striving to join, but still don't quite feel like I've made it to. She introduced me to a whole world of authentic people, unafraid of their lives, unafraid of themselves. Comfortable in their own skin.
I always wanted that, and close to me. An extended family of friends to always have around, if maybe only so some of that comfort might rub off on me, or at least keep my crazy in check. I led a pretty isolated childhood, hiding in the closet or in the woods, occasionally under water. I did have my grandparents and their piano, which one would think would have led me to be a virtuoso, but for the lack of lessons, or allowed time to practice when I finally did get to start them. My mother came from a long line of adoptions and divorces. My grandfather from a huge dysfunctional catholic french/polish family all living close by. I got to see two types of family ties. My own family unit had to be home by 5pm sharp before dad got home or there was hell to pay, which didn't allow much time between when school got out and then. We feared the days when dad started coming home early, or just not going to work at all.
We weren't allowed out of the yard if Dad was home and of course, no one ever wanted come over. With all the time I spent isolated at home, you'd think I'd have gotten supremely comfortable with myself, but the urge to get out of there just made me crawl in my own skin.
With the advent of phone calls to friends, I spent hours detailing the extended family life I wanted, with one of those authentic friends. The phone was one way I could bridge the gap of distance without anyone actually having to leave the house, or endure my father's nastiness. This was before the age of internet. We both had ideals on the practice of polyamory, multi-partner households, based on friendship, love, mutual interest, shared goals and respect for each individual. We worked out our thoughts and planned a better world where people were nice to one another and could live together without too many labels or jealousy getting in the way of supporting each other as individuals. Which I have successfully achieved, if you ignore the fact that my household members are almost all of the feline persuasion. I guess it's hard for other people to be comfortable with you, when you aren't comfortable with yourself.
I have learned many universal lessons from my cats though. Like: If you feed them, they will stay. To that end, I've become adept at showing my affection through providing food, and put on a few extra pounds in the process.
....