Guts and black stuff.
Listening to Sur le Fil from the Amelie soundtrack, watching a butterfly rest on my screen door, with a puppy sleeping in my lap and a cat asleep on the stool next to me.
Wondering why there aren't any good books written by people my age.
Lately I've been seeing these tight, little, slick characters as my guts in external form. They have shape here. Does anyone remember a cartoon where there was a random cut to a magnification of an animal's skin where you saw parasites saying "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"? That's how letters feel to me. But guts aren't like parasites or excrement. Those get disposed of.
20 minutes later the cat gets up to hunt the butterfly, despite the layers of glass and screen between her and it.
The butterfly flies away.
It's time for a self examination again. Too often in my head I am still at the traumatic age of twelve, complete with an extra fifty lbs, horrid acne, and waist-length uncontrollable hair.
This is why, eight years later, I'm suprised when I look in the mirror. Now I see a sexy, wickedly stylish, twenty-year-old woman without any of those aforementioned characteristics.
Why hasn't my self image perminantly changed in eight years?
20 minutes later the butterfly is at my screen door again, but doesn't land.
It's time to feed the cats.
When I was twelve I sent an email of jokes to a friend. There were some "inapropriate" ones. His parents read it. His parents called my parents. My mom made me write an appology to him and his parents. They drove me there to deliver it personally.
My parents have always had high expectations. They have not always outlined these clearly. However, they have always punished me for not living up to them regaurdless of my awareness to their wishes.
Eight years later I appologize for everything regaurdless of my responsibility.
I was sent to private, suburban, Lutheran schools until college. As a result, I'm a Christian who loves my God, but doesn't like the church. I should add that I do not in any way attribute my faith to my place of education. I often think I would have faired better in a less hypocritical, strict, and overall out of touch environment. My point is not to attack this particular form of educational establishment today. My point is that I am left with a desire to have a community of like-minded, supportive people, but feel as though I am an outcast in my own (religiously speaking)family.
When do attend church, one of two things happens. I get looks as if to say "how great, we've finally reached out to people like her." Or nothing happens at all. I get ignored.
My hair is an unnatural color. I wear bondage cuffs in public though I am sure that at least 70% of the general population does not conciously recognize the sexual fetish this is associated with. The 25% that do won't realize that they mean more than sex to me. The last 5% will have to be artists of some kind to annylize the characterstics the accessory posesses on more than one level and come up with a wide variety of meanings. Those 5% will probably be wrong too, but at least be closer than the first 95%. I have my tongue and nipples pierced. I have a tattoo......of the cross. I have a sense of style that is a little more expressive than most.
I consider my external self to be on the lower end of the socially deviant spectrum.
Why does a different appearance have to be associated with a different belief?
Most of the time I just want to scream, "I'm on your team!" waving a white flag.
The puppy just shit on the carpet and then ran to the place where he's supposed to shit.
Listening to Sur le Fil from the Amelie soundtrack, watching a butterfly rest on my screen door, with a puppy sleeping in my lap and a cat asleep on the stool next to me.
Wondering why there aren't any good books written by people my age.
Lately I've been seeing these tight, little, slick characters as my guts in external form. They have shape here. Does anyone remember a cartoon where there was a random cut to a magnification of an animal's skin where you saw parasites saying "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"? That's how letters feel to me. But guts aren't like parasites or excrement. Those get disposed of.
20 minutes later the cat gets up to hunt the butterfly, despite the layers of glass and screen between her and it.
The butterfly flies away.
It's time for a self examination again. Too often in my head I am still at the traumatic age of twelve, complete with an extra fifty lbs, horrid acne, and waist-length uncontrollable hair.
This is why, eight years later, I'm suprised when I look in the mirror. Now I see a sexy, wickedly stylish, twenty-year-old woman without any of those aforementioned characteristics.
Why hasn't my self image perminantly changed in eight years?
20 minutes later the butterfly is at my screen door again, but doesn't land.
It's time to feed the cats.
When I was twelve I sent an email of jokes to a friend. There were some "inapropriate" ones. His parents read it. His parents called my parents. My mom made me write an appology to him and his parents. They drove me there to deliver it personally.
My parents have always had high expectations. They have not always outlined these clearly. However, they have always punished me for not living up to them regaurdless of my awareness to their wishes.
Eight years later I appologize for everything regaurdless of my responsibility.
I was sent to private, suburban, Lutheran schools until college. As a result, I'm a Christian who loves my God, but doesn't like the church. I should add that I do not in any way attribute my faith to my place of education. I often think I would have faired better in a less hypocritical, strict, and overall out of touch environment. My point is not to attack this particular form of educational establishment today. My point is that I am left with a desire to have a community of like-minded, supportive people, but feel as though I am an outcast in my own (religiously speaking)family.
When do attend church, one of two things happens. I get looks as if to say "how great, we've finally reached out to people like her." Or nothing happens at all. I get ignored.
My hair is an unnatural color. I wear bondage cuffs in public though I am sure that at least 70% of the general population does not conciously recognize the sexual fetish this is associated with. The 25% that do won't realize that they mean more than sex to me. The last 5% will have to be artists of some kind to annylize the characterstics the accessory posesses on more than one level and come up with a wide variety of meanings. Those 5% will probably be wrong too, but at least be closer than the first 95%. I have my tongue and nipples pierced. I have a tattoo......of the cross. I have a sense of style that is a little more expressive than most.
I consider my external self to be on the lower end of the socially deviant spectrum.
Why does a different appearance have to be associated with a different belief?
Most of the time I just want to scream, "I'm on your team!" waving a white flag.
The puppy just shit on the carpet and then ran to the place where he's supposed to shit.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
however, i love you, so that makes up for it.
ha!
mwah.