I am. In so many ways. Sometimes I don't know what's good or bad or whether I'm to blame. I hate others and hate myself and in the end all of that toxicity just blends into something that's neither coherent nor expressible, just a mindless profusion of impotent anger.
There are nights when I want to melt into the darkness and be nothing.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Selected Entries: October, 2003
When I first started this blog, what were then termed Journals Sections were supposed to be posted every week. I soon figured out that there was a lot more to talk about. That being said, glimpses of my past can help construct my present, and I feel that they are a valuable part of the site.
In October of 2003, exactly seven years ago, I was fifteen years old and in one of the happiest periods of my life.
Some of that happiness was illusory; my escape from the truly awful conditions of Dirty Town two years earlier moved me to overlook or downplay difficulties that I faced in Beautiful Town, such as bullying and regular domestic abuse.
There were also several catalysts of latent unhappiness that I did not recognize.
My unacknowledged homosexuality was a constant hindrance, a source of awkwardness and uncertainty that effectively crippled my social life. This was made all the worse, particularly in retrospect, by the fact that I was extremely pretty at that age but also totally unaware of it. Whenever I did notice the male attention directed my way, I found it repulsive and traumatizing.
The knowledge that I was at the height of my beauty while in a state of closeted chastity would later be a source of endless torment.
October 4, 2003
Powell scared us all to death on Thursday the second of October.
Thomas and I had already been home for about ten or fifteen minutes when he came home and went upstairs in a foul temperament. Assuming that he was just in one of his regular moods, I paid no heed to it, only to comment sourly that he was in another stupid disposition and that he’d take it out on everyone else.
Mom arrived home. To my great surprise, she and my father will actually be paying for my class ring. The one that I picked out is a celestial silver with a centerpiece diamond, my birthstone. It costs about five hundred dollars.
Mom said that instead of the diamond, which would add to the ring’s cost, she is going to get me the cubic zirconium, but I disagreed. I only get one class ring, and I want it to be special. I want my actual birthstone, not some cheap imitation.
Anyway, Powell was ranting and raving upstairs, so I decided to see what was the matter. I walked upstairs and asked him what was wrong.
He just yelled angrily, “Go away!”
I was within instants of saying, “What’s the matter, did someone give you an IQ test?” but I didn't. That’s when I heard Mom asking him what had happened. Powell was crying hysterically; he could remember almost nothing of the past week, and he was sincerely convinced that it was Monday. His pupils were dilated and for several minutes we thought that somebody had slipped him drugs. I privately thought that he might have taken some willingly, but even if he had, now certainly wasn’t the time to be angry with him. He needed help. Naturally, he was terrified.
He was continually asking what was happening to him. My father took him to the emergency room, just after a visit from First Twin and Second Twin relieved us all considerably. Powell had been wrestling with a boy out front and had hit his head on the concrete. He had a mild concussion! He wasn’t on drugs at all! We were so happy.
Well, we obviously weren’t too happy, because Powell had suffered a concussion, but happy all the same. It was when I learned who he had been wrestling with that rage boiled within me. The boy who had thrown Powell to the ground was none other than Annoying Boy. Never mind that now, though. It does have a happy ending, and I’ll go into that tomorrow.
October 13, 2003
Now approaches the glorious winter.
October 14, 2003
I’ve been invited to a girl named Lauren’s party. I don’t know her too well; I sit with her at lunch every other day, but she said I should come. She and Lacrosse Boy are good friends.
October 23, 2003
Last night was one of fury and indignation. Powell and I were send to bed by Mom at eight-thirty p.m. (approximately) for not getting Thomas a towel and for playing on Mom and Dad’s bed (the same thing that Thomas regularly does). We were, and rightly, too, extremely angry. We have agreed that the System is making a stand. We are already operating under Code Red. I have reconciled with Mom and Dad, but Powell is being unfairly punished tonight for forgetting to take out some trash from the yard.
October 27, 2003
I hate my body. I’m tall and gangly and awkward. I never appreciated the elegance of my own form until it mutated into something ugly.
October 30, 2003
I am so relieved!!! My best-case scenario came true! I have a 4.0! I received As in all of my classes except Geometry, in which I got B-. The grade had been a 89.4% (I scored only a 52% on the midterm), but my teacher said that she had rounded the grade to a B- because I tried so hard. She said, “Well, you earned it.” She can be pretty awesome sometimes. I was delighted when my chorus teacher told me that I’d earned an A in her class. I got, to my euphoric shock, a 93% on my Biology midterm. I got a 94% on the Business Law midterm.
In October of 2003, exactly seven years ago, I was fifteen years old and in one of the happiest periods of my life.
Some of that happiness was illusory; my escape from the truly awful conditions of Dirty Town two years earlier moved me to overlook or downplay difficulties that I faced in Beautiful Town, such as bullying and regular domestic abuse.
There were also several catalysts of latent unhappiness that I did not recognize.
My unacknowledged homosexuality was a constant hindrance, a source of awkwardness and uncertainty that effectively crippled my social life. This was made all the worse, particularly in retrospect, by the fact that I was extremely pretty at that age but also totally unaware of it. Whenever I did notice the male attention directed my way, I found it repulsive and traumatizing.
The knowledge that I was at the height of my beauty while in a state of closeted chastity would later be a source of endless torment.
October 4, 2003
Powell scared us all to death on Thursday the second of October.
Thomas and I had already been home for about ten or fifteen minutes when he came home and went upstairs in a foul temperament. Assuming that he was just in one of his regular moods, I paid no heed to it, only to comment sourly that he was in another stupid disposition and that he’d take it out on everyone else.
Mom arrived home. To my great surprise, she and my father will actually be paying for my class ring. The one that I picked out is a celestial silver with a centerpiece diamond, my birthstone. It costs about five hundred dollars.
Mom said that instead of the diamond, which would add to the ring’s cost, she is going to get me the cubic zirconium, but I disagreed. I only get one class ring, and I want it to be special. I want my actual birthstone, not some cheap imitation.
Anyway, Powell was ranting and raving upstairs, so I decided to see what was the matter. I walked upstairs and asked him what was wrong.
He just yelled angrily, “Go away!”
I was within instants of saying, “What’s the matter, did someone give you an IQ test?” but I didn't. That’s when I heard Mom asking him what had happened. Powell was crying hysterically; he could remember almost nothing of the past week, and he was sincerely convinced that it was Monday. His pupils were dilated and for several minutes we thought that somebody had slipped him drugs. I privately thought that he might have taken some willingly, but even if he had, now certainly wasn’t the time to be angry with him. He needed help. Naturally, he was terrified.
He was continually asking what was happening to him. My father took him to the emergency room, just after a visit from First Twin and Second Twin relieved us all considerably. Powell had been wrestling with a boy out front and had hit his head on the concrete. He had a mild concussion! He wasn’t on drugs at all! We were so happy.
Well, we obviously weren’t too happy, because Powell had suffered a concussion, but happy all the same. It was when I learned who he had been wrestling with that rage boiled within me. The boy who had thrown Powell to the ground was none other than Annoying Boy. Never mind that now, though. It does have a happy ending, and I’ll go into that tomorrow.
October 13, 2003
Now approaches the glorious winter.
October 14, 2003
I’ve been invited to a girl named Lauren’s party. I don’t know her too well; I sit with her at lunch every other day, but she said I should come. She and Lacrosse Boy are good friends.
October 23, 2003
Last night was one of fury and indignation. Powell and I were send to bed by Mom at eight-thirty p.m. (approximately) for not getting Thomas a towel and for playing on Mom and Dad’s bed (the same thing that Thomas regularly does). We were, and rightly, too, extremely angry. We have agreed that the System is making a stand. We are already operating under Code Red. I have reconciled with Mom and Dad, but Powell is being unfairly punished tonight for forgetting to take out some trash from the yard.
October 27, 2003
I hate my body. I’m tall and gangly and awkward. I never appreciated the elegance of my own form until it mutated into something ugly.
October 30, 2003
I am so relieved!!! My best-case scenario came true! I have a 4.0! I received As in all of my classes except Geometry, in which I got B-. The grade had been a 89.4% (I scored only a 52% on the midterm), but my teacher said that she had rounded the grade to a B- because I tried so hard. She said, “Well, you earned it.” She can be pretty awesome sometimes. I was delighted when my chorus teacher told me that I’d earned an A in her class. I got, to my euphoric shock, a 93% on my Biology midterm. I got a 94% on the Business Law midterm.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
The Sun
I am meant to stride the world
You can't convince me otherwise
With mountain cliffs to be my feet
And shining stars to be my eyes
I am meant to touch the waves
From east to west my arms will reach
My left hand holds the Orient
My right the Occidental beach
I am meant to feel the sky
And through it I will surely run
No human rope is strong enough
To tie to ground the rising sun
I am meant to be the wind
That thunders loudly through the air
The frozen night will be my voice
The fuchsia sky will be my hair
I am meant to sing for joy
And radiate for my heart's sake
Those who try to block my way
Will only stumble in my wake
You can't convince me otherwise
With mountain cliffs to be my feet
And shining stars to be my eyes
I am meant to touch the waves
From east to west my arms will reach
My left hand holds the Orient
My right the Occidental beach
I am meant to feel the sky
And through it I will surely run
No human rope is strong enough
To tie to ground the rising sun
I am meant to be the wind
That thunders loudly through the air
The frozen night will be my voice
The fuchsia sky will be my hair
I am meant to sing for joy
And radiate for my heart's sake
Those who try to block my way
Will only stumble in my wake
Monday, October 11, 2010
The Onset of Fall
I, like many others, am prone to occasional bouts of silliness. In keeping with this, I sometimes bemoan that tremendous blessings were not even greater, and that in achieving something uncommon I did not go further.
I've been very busy during the days that summer has turned to autumn.
To make a long story short, I found myself, through a combination of luck, cunning, talent, and a fair amount of deception, singing before one of the music industry's most famous and powerful men about two months ago.
My brother and I debated how conscious he was of the role that dissembling played in my meeting him at all, and reached the conclusion that he most likely knew but didn't care. I certainly wasn't going to ask him.
In any case, he was taken enough with my rendition of several numbers that he arranged for me to perform for another famous and powerful man connected with one of the largest record labels in the world.
The second man did not much care for me, and my immediate relationship with the company, which had been considering pursuing a recording deal with me, ended.
For a little bit, at least, I was upset at having stopped where I did and angry at myself for not having won over such a crucial decision-maker. After the initial sting of defeat had worn off, however, I started to put things into perspective.
I was able to meet with and sing for an individual who has engineered the careers of some of popular music's greatest superstars. Even doing that was a huge accomplishment in its own right. And while he decided that I wasn't a good fit for his particular label, his verdict did not diminish my talent at all. If anything, I ought to be proud that my voice impressed the first gentleman enough for him to put together the audience to begin with. Vocal ability and perceived commercial potential are two very different things.
Something I've realized is that one setback, no matter at what level, does not end a career and does not preclude a person from having other chances elsewhere. Already I'm in the process of arranging to record a demo in a professional studio.
I will soldier on, and whatever may come I will know I gave it my all.
In the meantime, the multitude of my life's large and small gifts continues in a seemingly endless procession of bounty.
One of the greatest pleasures I have, as I sit in a beautiful house surrounded by family and plentitude, is watching as Fall rolls upon the landscape and touches its fertile fingers to the soil.
The colder nights have led to many evenings in with Beautiful Cousin, huddled over bowls of my mother's delicious chicken and dumplings or sitting in front of the television with popcorn and a shared movie as we exchange playful insults.
Beautiful Cousin's family is far away, and we try hard to make her feel that she is part of ours.
This time of year has always been enchanting to me. Sometimes I fancy that I can sense spirits darting in between the changing trees, a sentiment I'm sure my late grandmother would have appreciated.
I have a lot to be thankful for, and, hopefully, more yet to come.
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