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a not-so-brief reflection on the past. current song: fade into you by mazzy star i want to hold the hand inside you i want to take a breath that�s true i look to you and i see nothing i look to you to see the truth you live your life you go in shadows you�ll come apart and you�ll go black some kind of night into your darkness colours your eyes with what�s not there fade into you strange you never knew fade into you i think it�s strange you never knew a stranger�s light comes on slowly a stranger�s heart without a home you put your hands into your head and then smiles cover your heart fade into you strange you never knew fade into you i think it�s strange you never knew my father tought me long ago that nothing comes easy. "if it was easy," he'd say, "everyone would do it." he was preparing me for failure, and yet he was preparing me to try again. my mother was always different, though. she was convinced that there was nothing i could fail at, and not in that motherly wonderful way - but in the way that she felt as if she were infalliable and ergo, so was i. somehow i would make up for all the mistakes she made, somehow she would validate her existance vicariously through me and the rest of her offspring. we would make up for all the missed oppertunities, and the horrible mistakes, and the failed endeavours. and she would bask in the light of our victory as if it were her own. as a child i was quite precarious. i thrived on being "superior", but mostly i thrived on the joy i seemed to bring to my mother. she called me her "best and brightest", and it was all i ever wanted. and i was - i was smarter than my classmates. i was faster, and stronger, and better. i was talking by 18 months, could read by 3, and was playing the violin by 4. i always did my homework. i always did what i was told. and i always gave everything my best effort. everything was so easy then, except of course that i was teased relentlessly every single day on the playground, and that i can count on two fingers the number of friends i had, and that i grew up so sheltered. but as a sheltered girl, it didn't matter that people hated me and that i had no friends. i had other friends. nancy drew and the hardy boys, laura ingalls wilder, isaac asmov and carl sagan. i had words, and i drowned myself in them as far and as fast as i could. i remember the transition from catholic school to public school. 3rd and 4th grades were hell. the children were more cruel and less intelligent. i went from being the girl with 2 friends to the new girl with no friends. lunchtime public humiliation became ritual ass-kicking. and i became embittered against the entire human race - it was me against them. teachers in catholic school stifled me and shoved religion down my throat; teachers in public school turned a blind eye against the girl they hated for knowing all the answers already. my placement in the gifted program complicated things further; everyone always wants to know where that strange little girl is every wednesday. why is she bussed out to another school with another teacher? she knows everything already. but pieces of paper with straight 'a's delighted my mother so much - as did my particiaption in quiz bowl, the gifted program, science fair, violin and piano lessons, dance lessons, and 4-h, and i couldn't bear to let that go. i didn't have time for a social life anyways, which was good because i was unnaturally shy and hated people anyways. 5th and 6th grade i had the most wonderful teacher in the whole world. she seemed to understand that i needed to be elsewhere, and she didn't mind letting me escape into some literary world. she was teaching math and i was hiding in the secret garden. the battle of bunker hill (which actually took place on breed's hill) was happening, and i was wandering the galaxy with douglas adams. as long as i kept my place in class, and kept up on my homework, she kept the stream of books coming. every monday i'd put the last one she gave me on her desk, and i'd find something new to lose myself in on top of mine. she was amazed at my multitasking skills, and my test-taking abilities, and my writing skills. but my math was lacking, as was my science. i was coming home with 'b's interrupting my steady stream of 'a's, and my mother was not pleased. a 'b' is unacceptable. "a 'b' is not trying, and a 'b' is certainly not your best," she'd scream over her shoulder. and mother put the kabash on the books. "until you can pull up your grades, you can't have these other things," she'd yell. it never crossed her mind to cut out music lessons, or dance lessons, or the multitude of other things that i was involved in. i barely had time for homework, let alone rest. more and more my mother screamed, and more and more i noticed the absence of my father. he had a habit of ducking out when she was angry. he also had a habit of working at least an hour away; most often by the time i got home from my afterschool activities at 7, he was in bed, and was long gone for work when i got up. the weekends were wonderful, when he wasn't working 7 days - he'd play records for me, and talk about the books i'd been reading. he'd take me to the library. he'd roll out the schematics for the oil refinery he was working on, or he'd let me play in the welding shop. 7th grade came, and i had grown up way too fast in all the wrong ways. girls were talking about boys and hair dye and makeup. girls were talking about things i'd never even heard of. i think that i was 13 before i learned that you can't get pregnant from kissing. and junior high brought a whole new world of things for me to immerse myself in; i now had band and choir and cross country and debate team and drama club on top of the piano lessons and quiz bowl and 4-h and ffa and karate and dance lessons and babysitting. i thank god sometimes that my violin teacher moved. people became even meaner, and even more ignorant, and i'd had enough. i made friends with the girls that people were scared of (incidentally, the girls who used to beat my ass in grade school), and i started to act out. at the end of first quarter, i was failing 3 classes. i didn't care anymore. and when mother threatened to take away my extracurriculars, i silently breathed relief on the inside. she cut the dance and karate, and made me quit debate team and the babysitting job. i still had all the flavours of band and chior, and drama, and quiz team, and 4-h and ffa, but it gave me a few more hours to do my homework under her watchful eye. i didn't mind it. it let me sit still for a few hours. the grades came back up, and everyone was happy. my 8th grade year came, and i did well. but the scar of my brief failure lingered, and i was not rewarded for doing well anymore; it was expected that i excel. and that was the end of that. my freshman year, i went to band camp at the start of the summer, and it shattered everything i ever knew or thought about myself and the world. who knew that one would be so ostracized for wanting to be the best? and i was so tired; so tired of the world and the way it treated me, and so tired of expectations. and i cracked. i cut my hair short and spiky, and dyed it red with blonde bangs. i painted my nails black. i quit everything outside of school. i got a job, at mcdonald's, and i started smoking. i stopped caring about grades and books and pieces of paper, and i started hanging out with those same bad girls mentioned earlier. the fights my mother and i would have were knock-down-drag-out battle royales. i came to school with bruises, and blamed them on "beating the shit out of some bitch from fremont". the summer after my freshman year, i went into the all ohio state fair band, and came back with a boyfriend. and not just any boyfriend, but a loser who took me for all that i was worth, literally. and i supported him, and i worked two jobs and went to high school. and i really could have given a shit about school at that point; i almost dropped out and married the bastard. but i cheated on him rampantly, and when he found out, he finally left. i had my driver's license at that point, and i was unstoppable - sitting in denny's all night, drinking coffee, only to sleep through most of my morning classes. i'd sneak out at lunch, and come back to sleep the rest of the day away. most of high school from then on was like that - by my senior year i'd become a legend in my own time. the girl in the army jacket with the pants that she'd written all over in sharpie marker. the girl with the spray-painted shoes. the girl who sewed her own clothes just to make a statement. i'd been labeled a lesbian, a witch, and a part of the trench coat mafia, and i didn't give a shit. i tried my damnedest to stand out, and to be different. and i graduated dermae cum dentio (literally, skin of teeth) with my gpa an astoundingly low 1.7. it didn't matter to me, as my test taking skills never diminished - i'd scored a 30 on the act, a 1940 on the sat, and a 95 on the asvab. i could go anywhere, or do anything, i thought. then the rejected college applications came in - ball state, u of louisianna, osu, boston college. everywhere i'd applied. i was sure that no one looked at grades, and that it was all carried on test scores. then mother sent in the application for belmont, and it came back accepted on academic probation, provided that i got a passing score in a college level math class. so off i went to terra community college, for some bullshit algebra class with people twice my age. and i passed, while holding down a job and finishing out the remainder of high school. i still remember the morning of my senior prom - i went to class, cut out early, went to work, went right from there to the hairdresser and to pick up my dress, and then to prom. i was so fucking exhausted. and then the next morning, bright and early, christopher woke me up for chuch. i don't know how i lived. i failed out of college. the army wouldn't take me. i spent a few years, drifting from job to job, state to state. then i met jeremy. and then i got married. and i fought tooth-and-fucking-nail to get through emt school; not because i had a hard time with the subject matter, but because jeremy didn't want me to do it. and here i am today, failing at yet another thing; my marriage. my mother was so convinced that it was such a good idea. i'd have a nice, financially secure man who could take care of me. all the things i never wanted - i never wanted to be tied down. i never wanted to be held back. god damn it - for the hundredeth time in my life, all i've wanted to do is live. and for the hundred-and-first time in my life, i found myself caving in to people who tell me that it's better this way. and i am so tired. and i am so fed up. and i don't know what to do about it. and i'm sorry i'm such a mess. so, where do i go from here? ~*~ immediate yesterday. ~*~ divination. ~*~ get your own guestbook here |
