I only know that your face, the sound of your voice, will never diminish for me.
I refuse to give you up.
There are people like that, after all - individuals who resist the current, who hold out against that betrayal. Who refuse to take their small bouquet of mis-remembered moments and leave.
You'll run into them at the supermarket, or while waiting in line at the cinema, and they'll say, "I had an acquaintance many years ago," or "I once knew someone who I cared for very much who also loved oranges," and suddenly, standing there waiting to pay the cashier, or clutching your movie ticket, you can see them leaning into the current's pull, hear the rocks of the riverbed clattering like bones.
Sometimes we do the right thing - the only thing - and be hated for it. Inevitably.
Even justly. (Perspective?)
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
Where Are We, Jes?
When I read, I form pictures in my mind. That is, after all, the point of the written word, yes? To create a film in the mind's eye using your characters, your setting, your pace - with their script. Using one's delicious imagination, you become a movie director.
But what about those times when the picture you had all that time turns out to be (even slightly) incorrect? Unfortunately, I have had this experience myself, not too long ago.
It is utterly disappointing (to me).
I feel as if I've betrayed the author - but is it not the author that has betrayed me, by not painting a picture I could translate?
It's all in the detail.
I fear I may be slipping away. Getting lost to things that are of no importance. I will try to read (everything) with clearer understanding.
Adieu.
(excerpt from my book.)
Jesamania.
But what about those times when the picture you had all that time turns out to be (even slightly) incorrect? Unfortunately, I have had this experience myself, not too long ago.
It is utterly disappointing (to me).
I feel as if I've betrayed the author - but is it not the author that has betrayed me, by not painting a picture I could translate?
It's all in the detail.
I fear I may be slipping away. Getting lost to things that are of no importance. I will try to read (everything) with clearer understanding.
Adieu.
(excerpt from my book.)
Jesamania.
Monday, 15 August 2011
Destabilise
I have been dreading writing this post. Not for lack of things to say, but because I know I will be lying, inevitably, about some things.
Even if I deny it, every other post of mine has been for the readers, and not written for me. This time, fuck you guys (in the nicest possible way), because it's about time I start speaking to myself about some things.
Let's start with family.
Big ugly topic, eh. You have no idea.
It's an unfortunate thing to say that the people I call friends have not had the opportunity to know me throughout all my transitions. Not many people know the story of my life. Do I prefer it that way? Mostly, yeah. The last thing I want is to elicit sympathy because of circumstances I'd been in. There are things that I've been through that I wouldn't wish on anyone, but I am grateful for having experienced it.
I used to be a happy child. Obviously, things changed.
When I was 12, my mother, who was no longer married, began this relationship with a co-worker. Right from the outset, I was against it. I had this childish notion that it was wrong for a mother to bring strangers into what was an established home space. And so I let her know, in no uncertain terms, that I hated what she was doing. No doubt it upset her. I became a troublesome child at that point. I would let him know that he was not welcome in our house, and it probably tore my mother in two. Eventually, she decided to break things off with him, but it seemed almost impossible. He was very taken with my mother, you see, and refused to let her leave. He told her that if he couldn't have her, no one else could.
On the 29th of September 2005, he took her life along with his.
That man stole a mother away from 3 children, a sister from her siblings, an aunt, a cousin, a friend. He changed so many lives by taking away one.
It was a difficult time for me. I'd never been so lost, so eager to follow anyone who could make me forget. We endured months of court cases in attempt to find somewhere stable for my brother and I to stay. Can you imagine what that's like? Imagine telling a child that they're a burden. We were made to stay with our biological father, and his family. I couldn't bear to welcome new people into this new life, so I spent a lot of time on my own. 'Family' became a new concept to learn. And I'm still learning. Somewhere in my heart, I know that as dysfunctional as my family history might be, its only made me stronger. I'm a better person for learning how to appreciate all the small things. That's what it's about, right? The particles of being.
Speaking of beings, I want to be able to tell you what draws me to people I deem important.
I have a lot to give, emotionally, physically, intellectually. All I want to be happy is a companion. Someone with whom I can share my deepest thoughts, and not have them be subject to judgement. It probably sounds conceited of me to say so, but I feel that I am not appreciated for what I am, what I have to give. I am a lot of things to many people, but I am not who I want to be to them. Does that make any sense? I'm not able to be myself, because no one would understand me as I am. Ok, that isn't entirely true. But there are times when I can only remember who I am, by remembering you.
These people who are important enough to remain, are those who treat me as an equal. They teach me, as I teach them. We're following these derelict trains of thought together, because we want so much to understand, so we can be understood. There are entire lifetimes in every thought, and it saddens me that I cannot share some of them with you.
But I will try. Sometime.
Perhaps.
Jesamania.
Even if I deny it, every other post of mine has been for the readers, and not written for me. This time, fuck you guys (in the nicest possible way), because it's about time I start speaking to myself about some things.
Let's start with family.
Big ugly topic, eh. You have no idea.
It's an unfortunate thing to say that the people I call friends have not had the opportunity to know me throughout all my transitions. Not many people know the story of my life. Do I prefer it that way? Mostly, yeah. The last thing I want is to elicit sympathy because of circumstances I'd been in. There are things that I've been through that I wouldn't wish on anyone, but I am grateful for having experienced it.
I used to be a happy child. Obviously, things changed.
When I was 12, my mother, who was no longer married, began this relationship with a co-worker. Right from the outset, I was against it. I had this childish notion that it was wrong for a mother to bring strangers into what was an established home space. And so I let her know, in no uncertain terms, that I hated what she was doing. No doubt it upset her. I became a troublesome child at that point. I would let him know that he was not welcome in our house, and it probably tore my mother in two. Eventually, she decided to break things off with him, but it seemed almost impossible. He was very taken with my mother, you see, and refused to let her leave. He told her that if he couldn't have her, no one else could.
On the 29th of September 2005, he took her life along with his.
That man stole a mother away from 3 children, a sister from her siblings, an aunt, a cousin, a friend. He changed so many lives by taking away one.
It was a difficult time for me. I'd never been so lost, so eager to follow anyone who could make me forget. We endured months of court cases in attempt to find somewhere stable for my brother and I to stay. Can you imagine what that's like? Imagine telling a child that they're a burden. We were made to stay with our biological father, and his family. I couldn't bear to welcome new people into this new life, so I spent a lot of time on my own. 'Family' became a new concept to learn. And I'm still learning. Somewhere in my heart, I know that as dysfunctional as my family history might be, its only made me stronger. I'm a better person for learning how to appreciate all the small things. That's what it's about, right? The particles of being.
Speaking of beings, I want to be able to tell you what draws me to people I deem important.
I have a lot to give, emotionally, physically, intellectually. All I want to be happy is a companion. Someone with whom I can share my deepest thoughts, and not have them be subject to judgement. It probably sounds conceited of me to say so, but I feel that I am not appreciated for what I am, what I have to give. I am a lot of things to many people, but I am not who I want to be to them. Does that make any sense? I'm not able to be myself, because no one would understand me as I am. Ok, that isn't entirely true. But there are times when I can only remember who I am, by remembering you.
These people who are important enough to remain, are those who treat me as an equal. They teach me, as I teach them. We're following these derelict trains of thought together, because we want so much to understand, so we can be understood. There are entire lifetimes in every thought, and it saddens me that I cannot share some of them with you.
But I will try. Sometime.
Perhaps.
Jesamania.
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