Cheating Death (2/4)

I almost died in that godforsaken frozen-assed wasteland of a town. Not through any fault of my own, mind. I was too fearful to actually end myself, but nevertheless, I'm lucky to have made it out alive.
I had missed my bus to school, which (this year) was two and a half miles away. I had make that walk, in days before, i would go on to make it, in days to come. But this day was different. For the past few days, A blizzard had been raging outside our homes, keeping us indoors. On this day, Winter's rage had boiled over, into a deathly still fury. It was cold enough to freeze light, outside in the white expanse.
I don't remember much of that walk, save the hoarfrost on my scarf, a blinding whiteness in my eyes, and a madness in my mind. I kept myself walking with chanting, and one calls back to me, through the years: "Life's a bitch, and then you die." I was sure that it was my time to die, so soon after my true birth. I saw Death, that day. She was beckoning me down the road to my school, all dressed up in a robe of white feathers. I chose, instead, to go into a supermarket, and ask to use a phone. That was the first time i cheated Death.
I lived there through the end of that winter, then the spring following, the summer after that. Finally, at the end of a long fall, on the night the first snow fell, I left, vowing never to return. Death watched me go, from the depot where i caught my train. She was wearing a grey dress, her dark makeup running. I know that had i stayed, She would have me now. That was the second time I cheated death. After that, She waited a long time.

Invisible (1/4)

Sometimes, i feel invisible. Until recently, those were the best times. When I wasn't invisible, I was used. Not used? Hated. Is it any wonder, then? That i grew shy, uncomfortable, awkward? Is it any wonder that I grew to hate myself? I don't even know why. I guess i was just...  too different, too extraordinary. That's not arrogance. That would have to complimentary for it to be arrogance

I'm not sure which i started hating first, myself, or the world. Maybe it's one of those chicken and egg questions. Maybe it started all at once, and I just reached critical mass in that dusty, cramped room in North Dakota, in the dead of winter. Childbirth is never easy, and this time was no exception. Only, I was denied the benefit of a midwife to catch me, or a mother to hold me. I grew through childhood, there in that tiny apartment that i shared with two other children, and two cats.  Anger, boredom, and loneliness were all i knew. I learned about the world in a grim edifice almost a mile from my home. They called it school. I called it torture. I was forced into a room, forced to cooperate, with people who would much rather watch me burn at the stake.

I had only two  friends, well, one and a half. Both outcasts, like me, but for radically different reasons. There was the Mature One, who didn't connect with any of our "peers", mainly because he already knew the basics of human decency. However, he desperately WANTED to fit in, so he was fairly easily pressured into things. And then there was the Wild One, who had a demon inside him. Half of the time he was fun, extroverted, funny, an all around nice guy, if a bit over-the-top. the other half of the time, he was angry, mean, even dowright malicious. these were my only two friends in a sea of fearful "norm"-ies.

The only thing i remember one saying about me was "his eyes scare me" in a hushed voice.  I shouldn't have been able to hear her, but I did. I looked over at her, saw her gossiping with her friends, glancing furtively toward me. she noticed my gaze, paled, silenced herself, and turned back to her task.

I thought about ending it that night. A knife, poison; maybe i would just go lie in the snow, and be swept to a better place, on white wings. Sometimes i still want to be.

The Postmodern Era

Primalism and postmodernism are one and the same. It's you and the world, gettin' all cozy with one another. No gods, no conventions, no "regulations" to get in the way. We've come full circle, and everything once more rests on you. It's different now, of course (Time is a spiral, after all -- more on that later, probably). Instead of shaping the world with our hands, we shape it with our minds, our creativity. We have new faces on our monsters, new names of power, and new rituals. But ours is once more a world that we make, that a single person, however unknown or humble, can change, if they are clever, cunning, and determined.

go out and do something. I know i will.

Freedom of Choice

Freedom, for all that it is a universal right, is not given. It is earned. It must be fought for, tooth and claw, payed for in blood and sweat and tears. You must suffer a thousand years for the barest inch of your freedom. That is why, when someone wants to take away the little agency I have with my life, I get a little testy.

All I want is a little editorial control over my life. It's a small thing, and petty, but right now, it's part of the very little I have. My life at present IS small and petty. Furthermore, I understand that you want to be part of my life, but you have to understand that forcing your way into my business is not going to make me accept you. Occasionally, yes, i will spend some time with you, but I don't even spend time with my best friends more than once or twice a week, if that.

In summary, it's my life, and i can do with it what I bloody well please.

Blind Spots

My more skeptical readers will scoff at this post. Hell, I would too, were I not the one typing it. All i can say, is I swear, on the True Name of Deity, that everything here is straight truth. (whoo boy, this is gonna piss people i care about off)

See, i have a... gift, y'might say. maybe ESP, maybe a grace from God, maybe just dumb luck and genetics. Whatever it may be, I can... read people. Their emotions, their motivations, their personalities, even their physical sensations. However, there are some people I can't read. Blind Spots, if you will (hence the title). To date i can count three I've met, since i discovered this little trick of mine: my stepdad, an ex-lover, and a girl of my acquaintance, who seems to want to be a little more than a distant friend from my past.

Now, I have fond memories of this girl, though they be few and distant, and I wouldn't be averse to  maybe adding to them. But, thanks to little miss ex-lover up there, I'm a little averse to dating another Blind Spot. Now, on the obverse I can't be interested in someone I can see through. Would you be able to fall in love with someone you can play like a fiddle? Maybe lust, maybe I'd fool around with them a little, but sooner or later, I'd get bored. And on top of that, I'm a shallow bastard, when it comes to it.  All that adds up to me having some pretty high standards. which tends to equal me stressing over relationships WAY more than i should, especially when it comes nighttime, and i'm all alone.

The worst part is, she's more like a pseudo-Blind Spot. I didn't know about my talent when i spoke to her last for any meaningful length, so i have yet to get any kind of a read on her. if she would just talk to me, through any medium, really, i would be able to find out whether i just wrote a bit more than 300 words for nothing. it's madness, i tell you. And y'know, even if she does turn out to be a Blind Spot, I'd be fine with being this girl's toy. I just wanna be her only one, is all.

Ah, well. good night friends (if my friends ye be, after that little display), and I look forward to our next correspondence.

Real Life Update

hey guys, just thought I'd give you all my first non-art, non-philosophy update in a month. Or i would, if anything interesting was going on in my life, which it isn't...

Actually, that's not quite true. I've been going to Job Readiness Training at PAVE, through New Avenues For Youth. Now that I've told you what I've been doing, let me decipher it for you: NAFY is a homeless outreach service in Portland, one of several in the area. NAFY operates a program called PAVE, Promoting Avenues to Employment. PAVE helps disadvantaged youth look for and keep work. One of the ways they do this is JRT, a four-week course that teaches youth how to write a resume, fill out job applications, talk to interviewers, and more. I've been in it for a week, now, and it's already been an great learning experience. I've learned a lot, so i'm looking forward to taking this weekend to digest some of it.

Also, during one of those Post-Clubbing Rambles with my friends, I came up with a long-term goal. I decided i'm going to become a counselor. It really fits all my criteria: It won't be easy, check; I want to make use of my empathic talent, check; I want to help people, check check triple check. It's a job I feel I can be content doing. On the other hand, it won't just happen tomorrow, so i fugured out a short-term plan, as well: become a bouncer or security guard to put myself through college.

So there's that, but beyond that, not much else is going on. Still lonely, in the dating sense. Still stuck at home, after getting back from my trip. Still pointedly ignoring my tattered shambles of a faith, unlearning everything I fooled myself into believing.

Yeah, I think that's it. See you guys next time.