Friday, Mar. 07, 2003 - 12:02 am
i wonder what the logic is, or even the sanity is, to put down a child. think to yourself, if your kid or future kid seemed to be a screw-up in almost everything- wouldn't you embrace and encourage the thing(s) they excelled at? i mean at LEAST?
then there is the strange blindness some parents have for their own kids "my child is stupid, my child is failing at this that and the other thing, i mean look at her- she is ugly, ignorant- and thats not from my side of the family." but they'll gush about the local drug pusher who has a great look and car and just bought their parents a huge color TV (yeah but mom thats a drug pusher)- and instead of saying "oh now that makes sense, of course they have money" they'll say "you must be a junkie you whore if you know these things if you say these things."
funny how to my 'rents i was a prostitute, a drug addict, a moron and even (my favorite) "evil". when in reality i was a quite booky girl, extremely shy, scared to death of drugs of any kind, and considered the best artist and creative writer in my school- even that one- before we left MD.
on a camping trip i witnessed the tragic burning of an upper classman girl who was always kind to me- she was a basketball star, her older brother was the first guy to ever "come on" to me (ok even as stupid as i was in the knowledge of the wiles of the young male sex drive i knew he just wanted a romp- but still i was thrilled someone even wanted to "romp" around with me, i didn't,- he was beautiful, i was of course terrified of him in a funny way- then but i digress). she slept outside on that church camping trip and got cold and threw lighter fluid into an outdoor fire and the flame leapt back on her and burned her in her zipped up sleeping bag. she survived, but barely. she could not play basketball ever again. (she has since become a master fire fighter) well back then it made me want to be a fire fighter- i suppose a way to try and make up for what happened to her. i told my parents that the local firehouse had a program for volunteer high school kids to train to be fighters- i wanted to do it. but my dad in all of his wisdom pronounced that the ONLY reason i am wanting this is to be the volunteer fuck for the guys at the station. this was one of his kinder days- he just laughed at me. yeah pretty bad, wanting to be a firefighter..
even presented with the "proof" later, of some kind of ability, he had a lot of fun telling me "who do you think you are anyway? Bono? Picasso" my last little victory against him was to say "yes, i am "Bono", i am "Picasso", in my OWN way- and just because YOU are my father does not mean i can't accomplish something meaningful" for the first time he seemed to not have an insult to fling back. i suppose his predictions for me as a toilet cleaner all my life weren't working out. Not from me- to insult people who do honest work for a living, he meant it as me wallowing in shit all of my life.
its just so strange that he seemed to strive, very hard, for us to fail and when we didn't he'd cling to his misconceptions like a drowning man. these things in another strange way seeped into my mom who to this day loves football players, writes to them, sometimes makes calendars for the teams and writes letters to the coaches and with pride sends me clippings- all the while she's never listened to a CD of mine all the way through. i don't get it- i never will. its like the things that are good they can't see and the bad they make up if its not there to be pointed at.
i would revel in my child's talents, i will.
one of the most bizarre things to me as i left that world behind and went out into the world of strangers was for the first time hearing nice things- compliments, support, and its hard in a way. here are the nicest things that have ever been said to me, and these people have only just met me. when i think about it this way its so simple and sweet- cut the past loose, they, the parental vessels, suck, they are blind, they will never see any of the things you have to offer the world- but that damned child within still tries to cry and say but i want my parents to see too. fuck that, fuck the parental crap- they had their chance- why is it so hard to not think about how much they lost out on? with all these "amazing oxygenated" cleaning products i wish there was one that cleaned the traces of familial attachments. i feel foolish that i wish for one moment they "saw" me, saw how wrong they were. ever know anyone who hated you for something that was untrue, a misunderstanding that they refuse to see through to the truth? yeah well, the stupid thing comes up. i want to purge it.
but the cool thing is, what makes the parent thing pale more and more (and yeah its paled, but in recounting it, it seems present, brighter than it really is), something like this .�:*��`*:�.Dragonreign.�:*���*:�. someone i don't know, have never met- but reminds me of the kind of person that would jump into a bar-room brawl with you "just because"- they were your friend, even if the thugs you started up with were far far bigger.... this really shocked me- sometimes saying thank you is harder than saying "you piece of trash". saying thanks seems to touch inner parts that ring really loud and hurt if they aren't rung often enough. wen it happens, saying thanks doesn't seem enough.
then the folks who signed my notes and guestbook, telling me your thoughts, like the kind of thing people in families do- you know that thing.. "show support". like i said i am kind of frozen, kind of embarrased because i am just some stupid girl, and to say thanks almost seems snotty like i am saying "yeah thanks i'm so cool and you see it too!" its more like- you guys don't know what this means, and i don't either, or else i'd explain it better, but its the best i've felt in a long time about people in general. in a long time. now stop or i'll burst from all the warm fuzzies like "The Grinch" when his heart grew. i think mine will explode....
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