The weekend started off with a lovely road-trip. Stewart drove, Hamilton rode shotgun, and I napped and watched the scenery go by, and we all listened to “Reaper Man” on tape. We took the small back highways, #9 a lot of the way. Stopped and looked up a bronze Scotsman’s kilt at Hamilton’s alma mater (St. Andrews), ate at “Subs and Cream” – took our time.
We arrived late that afternoon, claimed beds (I got the same one I had last year – next to the window, facing the dock) and then we IMMEDIATELY went swimming! Woohoo! By the time we got out of the water, other folks had started arriving. Not long after that, we got the blender going, and then it was just GeekFest 2003! We sat around and “jawed” and laughed and b.s.’ed, and then everybody turned in to get some sleep before the Big Day.
The next morning came, and the weather looked as if it had been ordered with the cake. I slept with my head at the foot of my bed, next to the window and awoke to cerulean sky filled with fat white clouds, and just enough breeze. We all ambled up to the Doarway for pancakes and bacon, and then went for showers. No one had to rush, and we all made it in plenty of time. I rode with Lisa and Wendi to the beach, ogling hotties fishing below the drawbridge and looking forward to all the surprises the day had to offer. We found a good parking spot, just yards from the boardwalk.
When we got there, people were already gathering. By the time we (the photographers) had picked the spot, Brian came strolling down the beach, all golden curls and halogen grin in his khaki kilt and white shirt - he was GORGEOUS! He was greeted by circles of hugs and pats on the back, and then amidst the congratulations, someone said “Here she comes!” We all turned, and were greeted by a vision that I will never forget*.
As Andi came down the boardwalk, it was like an eclipse of the sun. I thought there could be nothing in the world more radiant – until I turned to look at Brian, watching her come toward us. She was wearing a white gauze dress, sleeveless and sheer, her feet were bare and brown, her auburn hair shimmering with sunlight. She had on a little circlet of flowers, with a very simple veil at the back, but everything, all of it, paled in comparison to the glowing beauty of her face. I do not exaggerate – as anyone there can verify. She looked like an angel**, her smile was incomparable, unforgettable.
The ceremony started, with Xavier as the acting minister***. Andi’s dad read a poem, and the vows were sweet, simple – and quick. I could tell that they meant them, too - ok, except maybe that part about the Mormons... and we were all reminded that a big church and a satin dress and a 15,000$ reception does NOT necessarily = twue wuv.
After the wedding (and the kazoo-march and lots of happy tears and bubbles), we all got into our swimwear and played on the beach for a few hours. (I did a commemorative sand-sculpture. Pics of ALL of this soon, folks, I promise!)
After the beach, we all wandered back to the Doarway. Some napped, some started working on the food for the reception, and some made some FABulous tea… I got ALL the ladies glittered up, Elizabeth manned the blender, and At around 4:00, the yard started filling up with beaus and belles.
There was MUCHO seafood on to boil, there was a johnboat full of coolers, laden with ice and beer and sodas. People mingled and chattered, and then Buffy called for toasts. The dads did their thing – more tears were shed, and then Buffy brought out the quilt we’d all made.**** That evoked the worst – but thankfully LAST of the serious waterworks for the weekend - and finished the toasts, 'cause Pam said NObody could follow THAT act! Then someone yelled “FOOD’S READY!” and the hoe-down began!
We ate and drank and made veryvery merry. The Whiskey Sisters sang a few, Mike picked the gee-tar, Hamilton rocked the flute, I even played a bit o’ bad kazoo. People sat on the grass and sang along… and then, when the full moon began to rise, we all meandered down to the dock for a bit of moonlight skinny-dipping! Woohoo! Later, while I was working in the kitchen, Will came and gave me a big skwunch. He said that I was officially a cousin now. (MOO!) I thought it was because I’d been there twice, and was helping to clean, but it turns out that it was because I’d made it an Official Weekend by initiating the drunken skinny-dip. Yay, me!
After the swim, we headed back up and began the big clean up. It was just like the rest of the day, though. A joy to be there, to be together, to be helping – we pretty much literally whistled while we worked. After the clean-up, we peeled out some shrimp and made other plans for breakfast, then we slowly wound our way into bed.
Most of us were up pretty early(!), made a store run and started breakfast. Will and I whipped up a batch of shrimp (SKRUMP!) and grits, Buffy cut cantaloupe and got some coffee going. Breakfast was good, and so was the company. Everybody reviewed the weekends’ highlights and told party-tales, and then we started dividing up the work roster and went off to pack.
No one wanted to leave – who would? The weekend, the wedding had all been golden and perfect. No more than Our Bribro and Andi (BrAndi) deserve. We – the ladies circle – debated shuffling the boys around in cars and sending them on ahead so that we could linger longer, but I think we all knew at the back of our minds that if we stayed we might be tempted to get jobs as waitresses and just live on the beach.
Sigh.
So, we packed up, hugs all ‘round, and the traditional Doarway song to send us off…
The road trip home was pleasant. Watching the highway roll up from flat and open back to hills and the sky close in on itself was the worst heartbreak I’d had in days… We finished “Reaper Man”, had some good conversation. Stopped at “SOUTH OF THE BORDER” (I bought a satin Chinese hat) and for photos at a day-lily farm. I think we were all reluctant to return to the “real world”…

Andi and Brian thanked us again and again for coming, for our help, for the gifts. But I think WE got the best present of all from them. A perfect, happy weekend, all together. Laughs and food and happy tears, good weather, sand, surf, company, and the chance to be witness to a truly good thing.
Thank you, and Goddess bless you. May we all get together like this, for manymanymany years to come.
-s

p.s. there were a couple of folks who should have been there, but just couldn’t. you were missed, but I PROMISE you were well represented!

*I am getting a bit teary just remembering!
**admittedly, one who knows how to have FUN!
***I am STILL trying to process the reality of THAT! :D
****AND kept secret! QUILT! QUILT! QUILT! QUILT! I can finally say it! QUILT!

Ok, I know you all want to hear about my fabulous weekend at the most wonderful, perfect wedding I have EVER attended - and fear not, I will tell all - but first, I must amend a TERRIBLE oversight.
I was SO excited about my trip that I forgot what June 12 was, in the "real" non-sun/sand/surf world of Sam and Saluda...
You see, Once Upon a Time, there was this boy*, a boy that I loved to the point of stupidity, but hey, what’s love all about if not giving in to a little stupidity sometimes, y’know? He was one Helluva a boy, and damned near a match for me – and that’s sayin’ something. Things didn’t work out, but that seems to be the fate of my Things anyway, so no SERIOUS biggie, but for a while there, it seemed like they might. It definitely seemed like we – and quite a few others - wanted them to. That’s sayin’ something, too. The simple fact that they DIDN’T work out (and rather dramatically, I might add) and yet we are still friends and still concerned for one another says the most of all.
So today not long after I hauled my sunburned heiney into work, I get a semi-sad call from said boy reminding me that what I’d forgotten in my excited rant on Thursday was that it was his birthday!
I told him that, at thirty(gasp!) NINE(!) you’d think you’d WANT people to forget ;) but I was really touched that he didn’t want ME to forget, and most of all that he reads my rants.
I know you SAID you didn’t want belated wishes here Red, but you deserve them. You are – and will always be – veryvery close to my heart**. Happy birthday (to you and your girlbaby). I wish you all many more good years and happy times.
And thank you for reading and reminding.
MUCH love,
-s
p.s. did anybody remember to get you cherries?

*"a very strange, enchanted boy…"
- and don't go givin' me !@#$ about saying "boy", red - you KNOW what I mean! :)
**even if you are WAAAAAAAY too old for me now! Hahahaha! ;D

ROAD TRIP TO THE BEACH TOMORRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!! YAY, ME!!!
(packing, cleaning, blah blah blah tonight, boo me... but:
ROAD TRIP TO THE BEACH TOMORRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!! YAY, ME!!!)

i'm goin' to the be-each, and hangin' with my bu-ddies, and goin' to tha we-dding and actin' like a foo-ool! yeah! two days offa work! yeah! duhn duhn duhn duhn duhn DUHN! woo!

yes. i realize this is a silly rant, but you know, this thing, this blog, is a place for me to express my true, inner sambiness and my true inner samby is delighted because:
ROAD TRIP TO THE BEACH TOMORRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!! YAY, ME!!!
:D

calgon take me awaaaaay!
MUCH love (and a little sunscreen)
-s

so mr. d____ said that he was thinking of getting a special tattoo to commemorate the fact that he got an apology from me*.
:[

good news for the day - the egg drop was a HUGE success! 8 of our eggs survived (though mine and ayla's egg - "lucy" was not one of the 8). the science guys said they'd never had so many survivors before! saluda libob kids ROCK SOCKS!
-my lunch at the WILDFLOUR BAKERY** today was very exotic and exciting and good;
- and juliana came to see me today!
schweet!

xoxox
-s

*i suppose that's what i get for a.) being such a !@#$ sometimes and b.) respecting smartarses so much. oh well.
**WOOOOO! in tha HOUSE! hey ladies!

you know, for such a smart girl, i am just not very bright sometimes. any of y'all ever have that problem? i have been not sleeping and not taking the best care of myself... i have been a bit kookoo for cocoapuffs lately, and it's wearing on me. CALGON, take me AWAY!
am hoping beach and four days with no SERIOUS responsibility will help...

well, in latest news, chicken apron boy and i have seemingly mended fences. yay! he really seems like a bloke worth knowing. (he's DEFINITELY a bloke worth looking at, and has agreed to submit himself to be a hottie of the fortnight - woohoo) his lady is like a biological origami fractal, herself. even if he was REALLY a complete yobbo, he'd be worth dealing with to get to know & hang out with her, but i think he's actually a pretty decent guy, too. and did i mention that he was veryvery cute? ;D
not that i notice things like that.
ahem.

got a sweet message from a special ex, today...

got to watch mr. that cute guy play ball in no shirt with his kids on sunday. even better, i got to watch his kids give him hell about his lavendar do-rag and being OLD! lol!

i actually APOLOGIZED to someone today, too. they were so shocked they didn't know what to say. ahem.
i'd like to blame my astrological sign* but i'm just proud and stubborn and thoughtless sometimes, and that's all there is to it. i'm working on it.

the wedding is going to be FANTASTIC... i wish EVERYBODY could be there. i am looking forward to fun roadtrip, "camping", seeing all the ned-herd in their best beach-wedding finery, and thowin' down geek-wedding-partay style. i only wish lulie could come...
moo.

more later,
much love
-s

* like half of the population of the !@#$ world...

you guys have NO idea how UNsurprised i am that an administrator considering special needs assistants for a mental health care facility would ask to hire some one with this particular ability.

from this week's mountain express, News of the Weird section:
"In May a county human services procurement officer in Portland. Ore., mindful of the sometimes quixotic needs of the agency's mental-health clients, included in a list of potential resource requirements a person fluent in the Star Trek language Klingon (but later said no actual job openings are envisioned)."

those of you learning fictional languages from sci-fi and fantasy works, don't give up hope! there could be a paying job in it for you, yet!
lol!
much love,
Magpie, Queen of the Geeks
(Chamas kin tokemata san "Divine Language", Mondochiwan, ilo ou-man tokemato.)

i feel baaaad. i think i got crow-boy cooties (he let me taste his K&C on wednesday night). he gave me a warning look, but i didn't get it and now i feel like moo-onna-stick. i am going HOME. i am going to rest and finish this !@#$ painting and then rest some more. moo. MOO!
i am gonna be really sad if i feel like this tomorrow night.
moo.
much love - and cooties -
-s

I am tired of hurting and pondering over this same damned subject, so that must mean that I still have a ways to go. I’m beginning to wonder if it is just my !@#$ haircut that is drawing all of these insecure, stinkbugheaded, small-minded, disarmingly ok-seeming chauvinistic jerks out of the woodwork and onto my case.
Whatever it is, they are not the only jelly-fish in the sea… I hope my beloved Pablo doesn’t mind me stealing his words to use as an example of all the good, whole, loving, Superior boys that are out there, who don’t need me to wear an apron, guard the hoard and put a CHICKEN on my shield* just so THEY can sleep safely in their little beds at night.

The other reason I wanted to post this sweet, lovely excerpt from his letter is because of how loved and precious and accepted AS I AM it made me feel, and I SO needed that right now.
Thank you, mi Pablito. I love you even more than wide shots filled with wind, white faces, long black hair, red lips, red leaves, red silk and the sound of ringing steel.
your razz keeps me going, too paul.
warts and all,
-s

“I just want you to know that I have swooned of late, and that it is, in some way, your doing; I read your rants recently, absorbed them in their beauty and fullness, then went right out and rented "Hero". Oh my stars and garters. Thank you, thank you.
And thank you for your constant inspiration, meaning quite truly that you remind me to breathe, deeply, and in so doing to smell and taste and keep myself alive to smell and taste some more, and then, on the exhale, I feel that I have something to give back, whether it's just CO2, or maybe some words, a song, whistle, razz, whatever . . .
Thanks for the memories, even though they're not mine. Those Pictures of Robbie were gorgeous, as I know she was, and a blessing on you for her beauty that you keep alive.
You kick such ass majeure, my dear sister; it seems like, sometimes, that you're just showing the rest of us what a life lived can be, warts and all.
Okay, enough of my gush. I mean it, I said it, so there.”
-pc
06/03/03


*don’t ask.

Sunday evening, I was in the tub. It was around 7, 7:30. Still good daylight. I was soaking, reading, hadn’t even wet my hair yet, when Luna started barking like mad and I heard someone bang on the door. I hollered “WHO IS IT?!?!” I heard “mm nm is ERIC/DEREK(?) n mm hm uh clmmhnm BAG nn mm BUSTED nn mmhmmnnmm…”
I said “WHAT?!?! WHO IS IT?!?!” this message was repeated, pretty much verbatim.
I said “HANG ON. I’LL BE RIGHT THERE.”
I got out, soaked, got dressed quickly (don’t you !@#$ hate that?) and went to the door.
There was a man there, maybe 10 years younger than me. He was aboutmy height, much heavier, and he had on nice clothes (a matching yellow shorts/shirt set). He had his shirt pulled up to his tits, and on his stomach was a gauze pad, a little clear plastic bag, some tape and a whole lot of human feces.
What he’d been saying was “My name is Eric/Derek(?) and I have a colostomy bag and it busted and I was wondering if I could do something (points to my shaggy yard) to earn 15$ to buy some more.”
Needless to say, I did not investigate his claim closely. I looked at his eyes, instead, and said “Let me go see if I have any money in the house.” I did. One 20$ bill. I opened the door, handed him the 20 and he said “Are you sure I can’t do anything (points to the yard again) for you?”
I just said “No, man. Just take care of yourself.” And then he trekked off through the yard and back up the hill.
I was in the tub and dressing for maybe another hour. When I left (to go find some familiar face, something to ground me), the smell was still lingering on the porch. I burned some nag champa and said a little prayer against desperation.

I still feel pretty spaced about it. I did go to tell the police, just so the next person who calls and says “A man just came to my door covered in…” doesn’t have to feel as crazy as I did… They - of course - completely blew me off.
Both sides (all sides) of the possible truth are scary. Truthfully, it didn’t look real – what I saw of it (the contraption, not the shit. The shit was DEFINITELY real.). If it was real, why was this nicely dressed young man walking so far from home(?) when his family or fiends surely would have helped him? How could he do yardwork in that condition? If it wasn’t real, then how desperate is this man? And what will he do next?
And so on and so on and so on…

I don’t know folks. When is Cowboy Curtis gonna come and give me the choice between red and blue?

feeling very unsafe and disoriented, but also strangely strong and fine... how very me.
-s

The chain of events that inspired my May 24 rant have borne some bitter fruit. Y’see, it was all about this one boy*, who sadly stands as a symbol for a small, but general slice of the populace that just seems to have problems with ME.
Though I genuinely like this boy, I don’t “like-like” him – he’s a happily married man. So it’s not a ‘spurned affection’ kinda’ deal**. We don’t know each other very well, but we both participate in a joint social activity that involves planning, decision-making, creative thinking, strategy. We game together. I’ve been gaming for 22 years, and in all of that time, I have never played a party leader, nor have I ever played with a female party leader. I never gave it much thought, until recently. This man has been gaming for a long time, too. But he has never played with a woman at all. In the game we play (an rpg, D&D***), my character was the first in the game, and she is the party leader. In this case, she is the leader of our party, the chieftain of a village of about 700 people, and the commander of a cadre of 19 soldiers – so far. So. There is a lot of planning, plotting, strategizing, y’know… TCB.
I have never been one for strategy games. In my experience they were always a bunch of guys sitting around, engaging in metaphorical pee-pee wagging, and arguing a lot. Screw that. But in this game, when everyone is pulling together, pooling their resources, it is a heck of a lot of fun. We’ve been playing this game for over a year now, and we’ve had a lot of fun and accrued a lot of ‘experience’. We’ve also begun to build a pretty fine kingdom, all starting with just one girl, a sword, a horse, and a letter.
When we first began to play this game there was another boy with this exact same problem (me). Ironically enough, this new guy is playing the same character. The problem was, they didn’t like me running the show. We played with other guys, too. And a couple of girls. And NONE of them had these complaints. But these two guys have both been angry with me to the point of yelling, personal insults, and lack of sleep and stomach-aches on my part.
I have been pretty stressed out about it. I love to play this game, it’s one of my favorite distractions. More importantly, to me, it is more than JUST distraction. It is a good – if odd – form of soul-searching. Finding out more about yourself and your friends, testing the limits of your imagination and beliefs. So all of this anger and dissension really hits home deeply. Like a bomb in the basement, or the baby’s room.
It’s easy for me to say here that I have tried hard not to push these guys buttons (and believe me, they are covered with them, and they are impossible to miss). But I really haven’t. I’ve busted my ass to keep the peace, partially because it’s part of my character’s job, but mostly because I really enjoy playing this game, and I want everyone else to enjoy it, too. I honestly believe that my GM and the other players would agree.

I know – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that these men don’t like having a woman as a leader. Even if, or maybe ESPECIALLY if, she’s pretty good at it. I believe that if I was a man, they’d follow me blindly and loyally if I was as good a leader – or maybe even not as good a leader – as I, Sam/Magda am.
And this is just a faint, little tiny echo of a problem that somehow still exists, the world over, in homes, offices, sports arenas, workplaces of every kind, the military, and on and on and on.
I guess I’m spoiled. I was ranting about this to a friend last night and I told him that a big part of the problem was that I was so unused to this. I have been blessed by (or have made good strong choices…) being surrounded by men who just love to see women fill all the space god allows them. See them be all that they can be. The men in my family had no choice. They either appreciated badass (and I do mean BADASS!) women, or they got the hell out of dodge.
If I beat my guy friends in arm wrestling, they’d just be really proud of me, and start lifting more weights the NEXT DAY. And those men have reaped what they have sown. They have whole harems of women – wives, girlfriends, friends, daughters, sisters, moms, aunts – who are THE cream of the crop, capable of EVERYthing, make them look like the pimp-daddies, and treat them like Kings because these women are grateful to have men in their lives who truly appreciate, respect, admire, and love them. Who never sell them short. Who know how lucky they are and also how wonderful THEY must be to deserve the love, loyalty and attention of girls like this.
God damnit.
And then there are guys who are NOT like this.
What’s so sad is that both of these aforementioned blokes are good guys. Likeable guys. I really wish that it wasn’t like this. I wish there was someway to change it without my having to be the bottom dog. (NEVER. Not even for Vin.) I have yet to meet the man, and truly suspect that one has yet to be born, that could make me roll over. I’ll acquiesce, compromise, try to be civilized and thoughtful for a decent man. I’ve even done these things for men who didn’t deserve it, because it’s what you should do, sometimes, HAVE to do, sometimes. But NO woman, NO ONE, should ever have to be bottom dog to anybody else. Y’all know what I’m saying here. If you don’t, write to me, and I’ll explain.

So the crux of all this is that our game – one of my favorite, least expensive, most readily available, worthwhile, lovely, fun escapes is being disrupted again. And I am being forced to examine this silly and painful dynamic that affects my life very deeply, on many levels. Because a boy doesn’t like feeling that I may possibly be more of a “Man” than he is.

It’s the real reason that I’m single. That I will probably stay single. And you know what? It’s the one reason that I can accept with pride.
And I promise y’all, if I ever DO meet a man who is truly my match, I will let y’all know. If only to warn you that there is now one BAAAAAAD M!@#$% F!@#$% on the STREETS! ;)

Much love.
-s

*For those of you who don’t know, I always use the term “boy” and “girl” when I mean “male person” or “female” person. I only say “man” when I am mad, talking to the police, writing an essay or imitating Miss Prissy off the Warner Bros. cartoons.
**Though I have had issues with these same kinds of boys that were exacerbated by that particular condition.
***Role Playing Game – Dungeons and Dragons

well, today was one of those days when i found out just why bravery is a trait that i respect above all others... i came a little closer to discovering the true strength of my convictions... i found out a little more about my (seemingly) bizarre and sometimes inexplicable attraction to and respect for certain people... and i found out that some of you really do read all of this stuff and pay attention.

well. if you're gonna live and speak, live bright, speak true.

thank you all* for really reading, and paying attention, no matter what i might say. i hope you all know that i try to be civilized and circumspect - and i appreciate it when you are, too.
and thanks for the compliments, too.

-sam


*well, those who do.

Let me say, right out ‘the box, that this was written by a MAN. Yay, him! This is truly beautiful. These are some of the most incredible words of wisdom I’ve ever read – and I’ve read a LOT. Hiro Protagonist, a mid-20’s young man is talking to his partner, Y.T., a 15 year old girl.
From the novel “Snow Crash” by Neal Stephenson

“Well, I think I figured out what she was doing - why she came here.”
“So?”
Another simple and obvious question. “So, I feel like I understand her now.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, well, sort of.”
“And is that supposed to be a good thing?”
“Well, sure.”
“Hiro, you are such a geek. She’s a woman, you’re a dude. You’re not supposed to understand her. That’s not what she’s after.”
“Well, what is she after, do you suppose – keeping in mind that you’ve never actually met the woman and that you’re going out with Raven*?”
“She doesn’t want you to understand her. She knows that’s impossible. She just wants you to understand yourself. Everything else is negotiable.”
“You figure?”
“Yeah, definitely.”

Words of wisdom, boys and girls. Live by ‘em.


*”Raven’ is an enormous badass Aleutian evil-hottie who’s VERY quick with glass knives and harpoons and who drives a Harley with a nuclear warhead in the sidecar. She has her best O ever with him and then kicks his butt and dumps him by the end of the book. I like this girl.

wednesday. blah. the kids are out of school. raar. j.w. treated me to lunch AND kristen brought me some good non-american food. whee. i gotta pee bad. WHEE! i may have broken wendi's lawnmower. moo. no one has written me back about STUFF. boo. i am broke. bluh! kathryn called and said faire pics soon. yay! and so on and so forth.
it's just been that kinda' day.
a moderate amount of love,
-sam

well, am happy to say i got some SAM things done this weekend. !@#$in' YAY! i certainly didn't get as much done as i wanted and needed to, but hey. everything is everything.
page is updated, house civilized a bit, working on yard, started painting a dress i've meant to get to, and worked on making my deadline list of "10jillion Things I Have to Do for Other People." sigh.
i also had a GREAT memorial day dinner, got invited to the goree's for steak and grilled corn on the cob, sweet potatos, aspara-goose, and TEQUILA! woo! have been reading a FANtastic book (on tam's reccomend) - "Snow Crash" neal stephenson i believe. really incredible cyberfiction. i haven't read any of that in a while, and now i'm on a run.
that's about it. sorry to be so lame. but you know what? i'm DUE some damned lameness, thankyouverymuch.
:D
xoxox
-sam

after yesterday's rant, i am happy... no, delighted - practically wiggly with pleasure to be able to tell this little story.
i have a friend, a very young one - the, uh, graduate fron the 5/20-21 rants - who is, by all appearance, a typical man's man, and quite young, to boot. we all know how inadvertantly dumb young guys can be (yadafoc), bless their little hearts... this fellow gives me hope, though.
yesterday evening, he had to call on me to ask if i would come with my truck, pick him up and go with him to pick up a table.
now, i don't know too many girls with trucks, but there is a definite mystique and 'secret society' attitude about us and our trucks. (they were talking about "girls with pickups" on the bob and sheri show earlier this week. it's a "phenomenon".) needless to say, we - g.w.t. - know this, and we like it. it sets us apart. makes people wonder about us. that's ok. it also makes you into someone that people call when they want something moved or need to haul a lot of stuff... it's a power tool, in more ways than one. :)
so, of course, i said yes. i'd be happy to help him. i'm sure he knows buckets of boys with trucks - he's a redneck guy. but he called ME.
when we got to the spot, someone had already picked up the table, so we just had a nice little afternoon drive. there's no way this good friend of mine could have known what was troubling my mind, but as i pulled up to the light, hit the clutch and downshifted, he shook his head a little, in that very country way, and said "there's just somethin' about a woman who drives a straight-drive pickup."
my rantworthy mood was still on me and i said "whaddaya mean? is that BAD?" and he cocked his head, gave me a VERY nice and telling smile and said "nah. HELL nah." and then he gifted me with a grin that let me know that DESPITE what all those OTHER guys think and say, i'm doing just fine with myself. just fine.

there definitely is something about a woman who drives a straight-drive pickup truck. and i should count my blessings that i don't have to deal with the men who are too afraid to find out.
big hugs to all my sister-girls who drive trucks and play softball and aren't too crazy about dresses and draw their own houseplans and do their own plumbing and know that fake nails are a waste of money and go barefoot and arm-wrestle and can break down their gun in under a minute and fire it dead on and can catch AND clean a fish (a whole mess, if you give them time) AND raise kids (even other people's) and can cook and sew and look like a movie-star in ten-minutes flat and sing like angels (or not, and sing anyway) and paint and draw and write and keep a man MORE than happy... and the biggest props of ALL to those men out there who are smart, lucky, badass and beautiful enough to CATCH and KEEP one of these amazing women!
A-MEN!

you know what? there are few people on this planet who love boys more than me. i think they are wonderful, well-made, entertaining and useful. they can be practical, pretty, thrilling, pleasant-smelling, helpful, friendly, loyal, trustworthy, and brave. in general, they just rock. i wish i had a whole army of them just to amuse and assist me whenever i desired... oh, wait...
but here's the dealie-o. they can also be so ridiculously insecure that it is painful. i just don't GET it! how can they not know how great they are? how much we need, appreciate, and adore them? i suppose it's because they're too busy wondering if we just got something over on them, or fretting about some time, twenty years ago, when someone ELSE got something over on them. or worrying that someone might, in the future, might get something over on them - or god forbid, even worse, make them feel like they look dumb.
they are tired of us being "bitches". they are tired of us using emotion or frailty as an excuse, they are tired of our double standards and illogical nature, they are tired of us hating fart jokes. ok. so am i. but I am tired of being treated like crap because i don't fit in a little girlie box. because i make them wonder about themselves. because i am happier being alone that putting up with insecurity and ridiculous, out-dated ideas of "relationships". men ARE generally physically stronger, and women ARE generally more creative. but i have met a LOT of good people who have proved that this is often a load of crap.
i am also proud to say that i know a LOT of men who are not like this, who are secure in themselves and their whole gender, who appreciate women for all of their strengths and surprises, and who know when they are just being dumb monkeys.
the few who don't know better, they hurt my heart. and the worst cases are always the men who are SO fabulous in every way - except for their intensely ingrained sexist views. guys who are jerks in all departments just don't seem like such a loss...
i know i am a very unconventional woman. and despite that, there are bits of me that are girlie-girlie - BINK TO THE BONE! and frankly, in my dreeeaam romance, i would meet a guy who was tougher than me, who could make me think, who could not only protect me when i was scared, but let me ADMIT that i was scared in the first place, without holding it against me forever. a man who could be smarter than me without rubbing it in*, who didn't think cute stuff was stupid, who didn't need me to look like jheri ryan to impress his buddies, who got the whole "shoes" thing, who not only didn't mind when i was right, or when i won, but was really PROUD.
they're out there. i know some. i wish they would make a tv show about you, or that y'all could teach classes at universities all over the country.
there is, of course, something that has happened to me recently that has caused me to feel this way, but honestly, it happens to me all the time. it effects my personal life very deeply. i have had several men, some that i cared for more than i'd like to admit, leave me because i was "too much", because they wanted to be with someone who "didn't do eveything better than [they] did", and who needed someone who "wasn't so much of a challenge"... i had a boyfriend who got angry because i picked him up, one who got mad because i caught more fish than he did, one who got mad because, when he tried to beat me to death i broke his jaw and never spoke to him again. go figure. there are men who tell me that what i need is a man around - policemen and strangers; there have been men who warned me that if i kept on being so "independant", i was going to end up a lonely old cat lady... and on and on and on... all in this category.
guys. either wake up, or leave me the hell alone.
for those of you who have worked and struggled to rise above, goddess bless you! may you be blessed with sons to pass it on to and with daughters to spread the gospel in their own powerful way. and if you are not one to have either, then may you live a long and prosperous life, and set an example to those around you.
amen.

*i know, dream ON, sister girl. i also dream of world peace, complete environmental renewal, and an effective diet and exercise program that i could really, happily stick with.

Depression and memory are devious bedfellows*. Throw in weeks of continual gloomy rain, in a landscape that is hostile to your nature in the first place, and you have a ménage a trois from Hell.
The faire and all that was going on at the time did so much to keep me distracted. But now I have time and opportunity to hide and think again. Don’t get me wrong – I know I was complaining about being surrounded by too many people and having too little time to myself, and believe me, depressed and restless beats homicidal ANYday… but I am back to square one again. Ok. Square 2,036, 972, but that’s not the point. The point is that I should be off of squares and on to some more interesting geometry.
Actually, I think geography more than geometry is the issue. Of all the interesting and conflicting personality quirks I’ve inherited from my family**, my mother’s charming blend of manic restlessness and Hughes-like reclusiveness combined with my father’s rather mundane (but preferable) mix of exuberant extroversion and nigh-sloth-like laziness makes me… well, mad and worthless a whole lot of the damned time.
It is shameful to blame one’s upbringing for one’s adult faults, yes. And if I didn’t know me so well, and know how veryvery hard I work to conquer all of this, I’d feel a lot worse about saying all of that. I think it’s just the fact that I have to work so hard. My father couldn’t help passing his fat genes, but he certainly could have stuck around a little more and tried to be a better example, tried to teach me to work harder, exercise and eat properly. My mother can’t help that she’s a complete and utter psycho sometimes, but she could have put me in a sack and tied a rope around the top and thrown me in the lake rather than let me live with all the memories, lies, denial, and lack of her.
Harsh. True. Partially metaphorical – if you need to believe that.
So. This piquant gumbo of nature and nurture has made me into a person that wants to intermittently run-like-hell, bite people, and then stop and lay in the sunny grass for a time. Maybe I was born in August by design.
I think part of what’s wrong today – other than the fact that it’s been raining so long that everyone’s brain (along with everything else in the world) is mildewing – is that I am filled with an equal desire to run away from home and lay in the bed and sleep, they are both even, and so passionate that they exclude the possibility of my wanting to do ANYthing else that I’m supposed to be doing. My house looks like hell, my yard is knee high in dandelions (where it isn’t just jungle), I can’t even THINK about all the deadlines I have, and I am fantasizing about blowing the Courthouse to smithereenlets.
Anyone else feel like this? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
Maybe I’ll use the $$$ I make from my upcoming (AUGH! DEADLINE!) “Day Off” store to run away from home. I KNOW y’all would all contribute to THAT!
Much love, and more rain,
-sam

*soap-operatic, even.
** whether by genetic lotto or the lovely process of socialization I endured at their clever/clumsy hands. I dunno, Henry. The verdict is still out.

well, i made it to "congratulations" (as indi said today - "did you make it to congratulations?" moo!) last night and i was SO glad i did. baby vin got his walking papers, and none of us cried TOO much. i wouldn't trade anything for the look on adam's face when he looked up in the stands and saw me sitting with his mommanem... :) i had an extra big surge of pride (mixed with pain) when his principal commended him and one other young man - detroit dawg - for signing up to defend their country. afterwards, he got choked up when he asked us, his closest friends, to look out for his baby brother while he was gone, asked us to make sure he grew up right...
don't get me started.
he presented me with his gown, so i can pretend EXTRA well when i have mississippi mass choir dining room concerts - awww! and showed me off to his buddies...
i was glad to be there and be a part of it. it felt like family. i miss that, and need it more than i like to admit.
i hope you all are getting enough warm fuzzies in YOUR diet.
much love,
-s

SO much to do. SO much of my life is on loan or rent to other people. maybe i should have kids just so i have a good reason to say no to people.
NOT. (besides, it doesn't work for buffy. :)
i need a mom. or a secretary. or some clones. CLONE SAM! YEAH! if i had enough clones, i could rent them out for parties and low-key loan-sharking, knee-breakings and that sort of fing. "pay me back or i'll send my rent-a-sam over there to talk to you about vin diesel and gormenghast until your nose bleeds!" yeah!
whaddayathink? i could charge, oh, 2, 3 dollars an hour - plus coffee and pork-rind budget. not too shabby. maybe i could get a Pork Rind Council endorsement deal... i could be the poster child for CDM coffee... "SAM DRINKS CDM, AND IT MAKES HER GO 'WHEEEE!'"*

oh, lordy. i am getting restless again. watch out world.
adam graduates tonight. i am gonna bust firestone to get there and see him walk the walk.
i will keep y'all posted on the adventures as they unfold.
much love (and WHEE!)
-s

*hee. that even made me laugh.

well, i can be a little less ashamed today.
the universe gifted me with bruffy therapy again. i have spent the whole day so far with some of my favorite geeks in the world, working on a top secret project* involving scissors, sand, sticky things and burger king. don't ask.
we've played and been creative, watched some FANTASTIC chinese cinema (courtesy of MY latest serious obsession**), ran some fun errands... i've gotten to see a couple of folks that i DEFINITELY do not get to see often enough. there's more yet to come, too. we are waiting for brett to be released from White Collar Overtime Hell and then we will all go see The Matrix together. yay, us.
life goes on. i don't hate this world very often, and on days like today i realize that broken heats are like taxes and death. inevitable, annoying and painful, but thank god they don't come around very often, and you can forget about them most of the time.
i hope you all have folks around you who help you forget the bad stuff and make you remember the good.
much love.
-s

*don't worry, we're not taking over the world. none of us want that much damned responsibility.
**for those of you who don't know, i am building a collection of period chinese martial arts and fantasy films on dvd, starting with all the movies of jet li and donnie yen - all set pre-1920. yes, i'm a weirdo. so what. you won't be calling me a weirdo when you want to borrow "hero" :)

i can't really say what happened or why (don't you hate that?) but it is still the most important news i have to report today. suffice it to say that my heart was broken* by someone who doesn't even know it**. good thing i'm used to that. one less thing to wonder about, one less hope to hang on to, one less star in the sky. maybe that will just make the others shine brighter and clearer. maybe.
some days, i really hate this world.
shame on me.
-s

*i guess i should be glad that there's still enough of it left whole that i could feel this way.
**bad for me, but good for them. accentuate the positive.

I missed the beginning of the show last night, because it was raining, and the sky was a solid cloud. That was actually a gift from The Lady as well, though, because it seemed that the Universe needed me elsewhere for those first couple of hours.
A dear friend called me, “please come to a small graduation party”. I went at 8, two hours until the Moon really began to do Her thing – perfect. I told them I could not drink with them – last night did it for me for another year or so – hopefully. But I ended playing kickball in the yard with all of them (high school boys, football players, Blessed Be!) and my host’s PRECIOUS five-year-old brother until the light left us. MUCH more fun than drinking, I must say, and a MUCH more effective distraction.
After the game, the rain came the gents came inside. We ended up talking about life and God and sex and rap music, all the things that make the world go ‘round. And then it all got deeper, and they began to tell about their hurts, about the things that life handed them before they were old enough to know what to do. And I realized I was there for a reason. They felt free to tell all around me, maybe through me. Talk to each other about things they might NEVER mention to anyone else, and all I had to do was listen and accept. I didn’t have to say a word. In the end, they told themselves and each other that God didn’t hand them these things – life did. But God gave them the strength to get through it, and Adam said “As bad as it all was, the hate, the pain, the fear, if it hadn’t happened to me, I wouldn’t be who I am.”
And then, I went home, lit my candles, got some good food, read and snuggled with Lu until the rain stopped, and then went out to see what the Moon had to show me. I brought my quilt and pillow out and laid on the cool, wet grass. The eclipse was about halfway through and though half the sky was brilliant stars, where the Moon sat was thick with clouds. The clouds swept by quickly, though, and the eclipsing Moon was like the fanciest fan-dancer in the history of tease. One moment there would be luminous, roiling cloud, eerily lit with that strange light that only eclipse brings and then suddenly, a brilliant flash of near-full Moon, half dark. It had the feel of peek-a-boo with a child, but only if that child was Buddha ancient, tiger-bright and God. I drifted in and out of sleep – feeling safe in that strange dark because of my little moon, Luna there beside me. I thought of other moon-shows, moonshadows, remembered another eclipse, years ago, in my backyard back home with Cat purring on my chest… that night at Pablo’s farm… swimming alone in Lake Crawford, swimming in that full reflection… I remembered my father saying that I was moon-obsessed as a child. He said I knew the moon before I knew my parents names and faces**, and that he feared that I would be “moonstruck”* as an adult. I think he was right.
She did not disappoint me last night.

Wendi wrote, and it seems that she and I got treated to our first views at the same time. She was out on the road, driving under that lovely phenomenon. Heading south – the best direction.
I’d love it if any of you would write and tell me where you were, what you saw, what you dreamed.
Much love,
-s


*Moonstruck:
Adj.
1. in a daze: acting in a rather irrational, dreamy, confused way, often out of love (informal humorous)
2. wildly confused: behaving in a wild or confused way (dated literary)
[Late 17th century. The two senses of the word came from the romantic associations of moonlight and the popular belief that the Moon has an effect upon mental stability.]
**the prayer I’ve known the longest, even longer than “now I lay me down…”:
”I see the Moon, the Moon sees me. God bless the Moon, God bless me.”

well, for all my big talk, yesterday - last night - was still pretty damned bad. i drank a lot last night. i called an ex, and luckily it was the right one, someone who was there with me through the first of this bad time. he was sympathetic, he remembered with me - some good things out loud, some bad things in silence. and we made each other laugh. (thank you, jah. we are bound by more than ink and memories of swimming.)
i worked, i wandered around the house looking at her pictures and crying. i was mad, i cried, i wished death and hell on the "people" who did this... i FINALLY fell asleep after writing a silly drunken missive to james and trying to read some pratchett... and when i woke up i thought: "i made it through this night. she didn't."
i am coming to terms with the fact that it will never go away. not until my memory or my life is lost. some things you CAN let go, some things, you can't. the next week will be rough, but the worst is over. memory can reclaim the place where my imagination was trying to roam last night. thank god. i just have to be grateful for the fact that it's only this bad a few days a year, that it hasn't stolen my whole life, driven me crazy or helpless. that i have the strength to get through it. let go? no. go on? yes. that's something. that's a LOT actually.

tonight i am going to watch the eclipse with my best friend, love of my life, moon-doggy herself and try to think of good times. think me good thoughts, i will do the same for you.
much love,
-s

these days are like ghosts, but at least they get thinner and paler with each passing year.
i try not to dwell, not to think about what these days mean in the whole scheme of things, but my memory* brings me back to those days with painful clarity. the memories are odd and queasy, because so much of that week was a soggy, drugged-up sick haze. i had vertigo the worst i've ever had it, i think from crying so much. i was on antivert and sedatives, and i remember people - mainly steve - steering me around like a little black cloud on a string. i slept with a damp towel and wouldn't take off dad's shirt - they ended up buying me a new one that resembled it to wear to the funeral so i would at least be clean.
the worst is when i look at the clock and i remember specific events that happened at those times. on may 13, i was still just miserable, missing my dad, oblivious to the fact that the worst was to come. aunt sue's phone call, police questions, dragging the river, and all that just the very beginning of the awful all of it.

one more week or so to go, and i'll be through it. i lay in bed last night and looked at the pictures of her on my wall. thought of the ones on the mantle, in my albums. i thought of how old she would be, what her life might be like. and i thought of the people who murdered her claiming and appealing because they've been "treated unfairly". i wish i could let go of my anger there. it might be the last tie to the ghosts. they should be dead, painfully, tortured, like she was, and she should be alive.
there's no sense in "if" and "should" here, not really - unless those murderers ever manage to get set free...
i know, i know, shut up already sam. but even those of you who are close to me don't know what i go through, what these ghosts do to me, all the billions of thoughts that spin off of days on the calendar and hours on the clock. the pain gets better, but the thoughts multiply.
thank y'all for going through this with me, year after year. it helps.
love,
sam

*highly doubted and disputed by those who don't want me to remember, celebrated for it's eerie accuracy by those who know me well and have nothing to lose

i do not, by ANY means intend to undermine the opinions of my girlfriends here. i think that my girlies, in particular, have FABULOUS taste, but ladies - we all know that when we make a drastic change to our appearance, we want to know what the BOYS think, right?
i love my new hairdo, and i think all my girlies will, too. the local ladies have proclaimed it "Daaaaarlin'!", "SO cute!" "Pixie-ish!" and have said it makes me look younger - rave reviews, in my book. and ladies, we also all know how men react when we cut all our hair off - IF they even notice (sheesh). this cut was so drastic that even the most, ah, typical of blokes couldn't miss it, and of course i had the fear that i would look (even MORE) like a boy, but what the hell. well, today, the PUBLIC OPINION polls are in.
it's saturday, which means the cutest boy in saluda might come in, so i always dress up a little. i have on my favorite black swirly spotty dress and (*gasp!*) even a little make-up and some sandals. i took my lunch stroll downtown, i had a little pink plastic shopping bag - yeah, i was lookin' cute. i walked by the store where my ex works and oh, just stopped in to get a pack of gum. he noticed. i will spare y'all the gorey details of our conversation, but lets just i could tell that he liked it... :) i continued on down the street, and when i crossed over to the bakery, the owners' brother and a couple of young guys were getting into a car. i waved and as i walked by i heard somebody holler "OWWW!"* real loud. THEN, when i got back from lunch, my friend jeff walked in, did a double-take at the hair and said "you look like SOMEbody with your hair like that, now who is it...?" i said "jeff, this better be good..." then i told him about the "OWWW!" and grinned real big. when i grinned he said "i got it! i know who it is! you look like a bleached-out HALLE BERRY!"
you know what i have to say to that?
"OWWW!"
thanks guys - i needed that. :)
xoxox
-s

*not like "owww!" as in pain, but "owww!" as in cute, cheesy, 70's appreciative wolf noise! :D

sssSSSOOooo tired... bluh! :) but catching up, slowwwwwly, but surely. i tried to kick everybody out of the libob an hour early tonight (COMpletely by accident, of course!). oops. i got my hair cut reallyreally short, too. shorter than ever before, i think. i love it. i thought it might be nice to warn y'all though. :)
otherwise, am hanging in there. mothers' day politely falls in the middle of my worst week of the year. kinda' nice to get it all crammed in together, get it out of the way. it gets easier every year. i think luna is gonna treat me to a nice long walk this year and i think i am gonna treat myself to a sushi dinner and a movie that night. yeah!
i am deliciously, decadently enjoying having my house to myself again. i can run around in nothing but my holy socks and sing loud and eat bad stuff and watch movies till 2 am and leave dishes in the sink and fling things everywhere. i can be MONKEY GIRL* again! yay! i really don't think i could live with ANYbody - not even vin - for any length of time, unless we had a HUGE house, with multiple bath rooms and kitchens. GOT THAT, VIN?! :)
i think luna is sad. she misses her day company, so i just have to work harder to amuse her. maybe i should get her a little friend...
i just found out today that i will be getting an ENORMOUS (to me) raise in january, so maybe i could afford a new friend. it's also possible that this will just be "KY" $$$, so the other possibility is that i'll be inspired to go ahead and start my own business and work from home. we shall see how things unfold...
i will keep you posted - y'all do the same.
bunches-a-skwunches!
-sam

*i am so much like a boy that i SCARE me sometimes...

Hello, all. I know everybody wants to hear about the faire, and I do have LOTS to tell - and will, but something else is on my mind - one of the main reasons why I joined the faire in the first place.
My mind plays funny tricks on me. Even though I KNOW the days, the time of year, my mind has always been good at shuffling time so that I forget important things, important days, how many years have gone by since... but this morning, while I was getting ready for work, I looked in the mirror and I saw my parents - like I do some days - and I remembered precisely what today is.
Every year, at this time, I sink myself into something big, bigger than me and all my potential for sadness. I must say that the faire and the art show were DEFINITELY that big (thank you ALL), but here I am back at this week of anniversaries and the tide rushes in.

This year, my own sadness is soft and gentle. It seems natural for the first time since it all came to pass - dad's death (may 8th, 1995) and my cousin Robbie’s murder (may 14, 1995), maybe because of time's passage, and maybe because of the fact that the bastards who did this to Robbie have finally been convicted*. Maybe it's because I’m growing up a little, too, because now I hurt more for my siblings, and for the rest of Robbie’s family. I wonder how they are, and wish that I could be with them right now. If I were home, I would take a trip to Beaumont, visit lake Perry, where we scattered** dad's ashes, and then gone to Van Gundy hill to visit Robbie’s grave and light a candle. This would have just comforted me, made me feel close to them again for a little while. But what I really want to do is be with the survivors. Sit down at Mrs. Frances' table, hug my brothers, and tell my sister a story or ten. Remember that life goes on, and that as long as I can see Mandy’s face and feel Jeff’s hands, that dad is still with us. Robbie was so young, but I have a great legacy from her - a well of strength that I was never truly aware of, one that - so far - has proven to be immeasurable and unbreakable***. I wish that I could be with the others and see how time has treated them. I wish I could do them some good.
As it is, I’m here, and I just have to put all my efforts into other places, and hope that the flow of the Universe brings it all around to my folks who need it. And maybe you’ll read this, and know that I am thinking of you this week.
All my love and strength,
-s


*Though I have just read of their latest attempt to appeal, due to having been treated "UNFAIRLY".
**Ok, PITCHED - well, the game and fish commission was chasing us, and we were doing it illegally, of course, with Luna, who was no bigger than a cat then, trying to swim out to us and us trying to remember a prayer - any prayer. I may have even said "ominous biscuits"... sorry dad. Wait, who the hell am I kidding, dad would have laughed his ASS off!
***Bendable and flexible, though – woo!

well, people have complained about no new rants (thank you - i am NOT complaining. it's nice to know they're missed.) so i thought i'd take a few precious moments (hur hur hur) to let everyone know what's up.
the rennfaire starts on saturday - AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! ok, ok, breathe girl, breathe.... i have been so busty - haha ha, BUSY (busty too, my bodice looks GREAT - thanks jen!) that i haven't had time to be too freaked out... until yesterday or so. i cannot even BEGIN to list all that i've been doing to prepare for this, but i tell you what, if anybody EVER calls me lazy* EVER again, i am gonna think back on this last few months and then SOCK 'EM IN THE SCHNOZ! :)
on top of all that, i have an art show opening on the day after the faire closes**. normally i would have said no to ANYTHING (except maybe vin diesel) during the final heat of faire season, but my good friend carol lynne came to me about a month ago and said that Steps to Hope (the same folks i did the "lecture" for - the center for aiding the victims of domestic abuse) was offered a space in which to promote the shelter and the work they do there. she asked if i could help design the show and if i would put some of my pertinent art and writing in the show. i couldn't - wouldn't - say no to that. or vin diesel. :)
i'm unbelievably busy, my personal life is non-existent (what's new. sheesh. :) i don't even really have time to rant or moo!, but hey - I'M BUSY! I DON'T HAVE TIME TO RANT OR MOO! yay, me! and yay, all of y'all, too. :) thing is, i have no shortage of things to do, i am using ALL of my skills and abilities, and best of all, i am helping people. i feel like i have been blessed with more than one grand (and fun) opportunity to devote myself, my time and my gifts to my truest, deepest purpose. until recently, i wasn't even sure what that was, but i am beginning to get a clue.
our charities for this faire are two homes for children that have been removed from their own homes because of violence, abuse, neglect, or abandonment. Presbyterian Home for Children and Elida Home for Children. i definitely don't follow any of the true traditional religious doctrines, but i DO believe in fate and destiny and that everything has a purpose and a reason, that the universe is a very finely tuned and complex machine/organism/being/
THINGY(god. :), and that i have a place in that - a responsibility to that. and i just need to feel that i can make a difference, that i AM
making a difference - and THIS is the place where i want to make a difference. to these kids.
wish us all luck, and i promise, when this is all over, i will come back to bugging y'all with my opinions, gripes and "whees!" with annoying regularity.
much love,
-sam



*this includes me, too. though i probably wouldn't hit myself in the nose. i'd probably just berate myself soundly. maybe send me to my room.
**lazy, no. insane, yes.

only a moment to post but this seemed worth stopping for:

"In life there is bueno and there is malo. If you do not find enough of the good, you must yourself create it. ... ... ... Remember this thing - any small goodness is of value."

-from 'Any Small Goodness' by Tony Johnston

WARNING: EXTREME SERIOUSNESS ALERT.

It’s been a weird week. Among other things, I’ve discovered the heart of the reason why I can’t live with anyone. It’s a bit disturbing, but at the same time, it’s ME, and I like me and understand me, so… the world, myself include, has to just like it or lump it*.
It seems that my need for isolation is more than just a spiritual, mental thing. I’ve always had a lot of fear-driven anger. The hyper-vigilance that comes from being a victim of abuse for the first 20 years of ones’ life instills a sub-conscious and “unpredictable” (but obvious) pattern of reactions to any given situation. Anytime anyone else comes into my space, no matter where I am, my brain gives signals to my body – I actually ALWAYS have to THINK about how I hug someone. It is always an awkward process (except maybe with Aunt Sue and dad, my oldest, safest hugs). When I enter a new place, without even really being aware of it, I “case” it for dangerous looking people and escape routes. I notice all ‘odd’ things, I remember numbers, times, descriptions – just in case. It seems sad, sometimes it feels sad, but is completely ingrained in me, it has kept me alive, and it is quite interesting to have a mind like this – IF it has a safe place to rest and doesn’t get ‘carried away’.
My home has been now, for years, my sanctuary. The one place where I felt both secure and could just be as, well, WHATEVER as I wanted to be. When I discovered that my neighbor was
watching me, stalking me, I suppose, I nearly went over the edge. I was no longer safe. I no longer had a space for the all of me, a place where I could lay down my sword and shield for a few hours.
Then, a friend moved in, and – and though that should have counter-acted the fear of this neighbor’s intrusion, he was just a possibility (of intrusion and danger). Now I have another presence in my cave all the time. It is like being a kid again… guarding my privacy, listening for every sound, pretending to be asleep, desperately trying to find any way possible to be alone, even if it is just within my head. I didn’t realize how badly it was affecting me until three incidents occurred this week.
The first was when I had to move my own refrigerator in order to unplug the fan I carry around the house. Part of it was that I was EXTREMELY tired, and frustrated at having to do this, the other part was that my house-mate, in trying to be helpful, had pried open the window DIRECTLY across from my bedroom and put the fan there. I am vulnerable because of this window – I hate to sleep (or do ANYTHING with closed doors, I don’t even like to close the stalls in public bathrooms…) behind closed doors – and this window faces the side yard nearest to the public road, with a direct view into my room. So in order to close this window, I had to go to a good deal of effort. Before I knew what I’d done, I’d hit the window frame so hard that my knuckles are still bruised, and I missed the window by inches.
Then on Monday night, I was with a Gentleman Friend, of many years’ acquaintance. We were having a nice evening, getting skwoochy, and then – in an awkward moment – he laughed, and I thought he was laughing at me. Without ANY thought at all, I felt my anger and “cagedness” spring out of me, and I hurt him. I have never hurt him before, and have not done anything like that in years. Let me add, just for the record, that he was a gentleman, even then. He was not angry, heartbreakingly, he admitted that he was simply scared.

The following morning, I was at my local convenience store, paying for gas, when a man who works there came up behind me and put his arms around my neck. He’s a VERY big man – and he is married with children. I have confronted him VERY clearly, publicly, and not in a “sweet way” about touching me and LEANING on me before. The last time was LOUD, in the McD's.
When he surprised me this way on Tuesday morning, I snapped again, and within seconds, I had pinned his hands, kicked him twice, ducked under his arms and punched him three times in the ribs. I realized what was happening in time to pull the punches somewhat, but I was utterly humiliated and very angry. (But I was also RIGHT.) This has happened to me before, but not for years, and always in moments of real fear or pain. To have three incidents like this in just three days is something I can't rationalize**. Someone close and dear to me has been struggling with something similar for years and now I am
beginning to understand.
Take time for yourselves people. Take time to unwind, do WHATEVER YOU NEED TO DO to have your own space. Do not ignore your hurt monkey self, or you might end up hurting someone else.
Wish me peace and luck.
-s

*what an odd expression. I’ve always liked and used it, though.
**that is the worst pun i've ever accidentally written.