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My Profile
Retro-retrospection - 2008-10-06
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6:31 p.m. - 2003-04-26
So Tsuki told me Merc went into retro, in Mars no less. The upshot being that for many people this will be a time of the past coming back and biting them in the butt. This would explain the elaborate dream I had this morning. The entire clan of my da showed up at my house acting like I knew they were coming. I haven't seen most of these people in 25 years, some of them even longer. Aunts, uncles, cousins, the cousins' children, several of my da's ex-wives (Hard to distinguish them from the other kids, my da marries 19 year olds and trades them in for a new one when they reach 26 or so. I haven't seen or spoken to my da in 20 years, but my sister keeps in touch with him and passes news of his doings onto me. I think my da is on wife #8 right now. Just another reason I can't be bothered with the man. How gross is it that my son is dating someone older than my father's wife?) So anyhow, in my dream I had this whole houseful of relatives all talking around me as if I were some servant who is supposed to be ignored. And the truly weirdest thing was that my house kept shrinking and getting shabbier. At first it was an ultra-modern glass house, a huge thing, very Hollywood Hills, (and totally NOT my style, btw) and by the end of the dream it was basically an ice fishing hut. Only without the hole in the floor to fish through. Though the relatives mostly ignored me I got the idea they were waiting for something from me. I was supposed to make a speech or produce some important paperwork, something like that anyway. And I didn't KNOW where it was or what I supposed to say! I was furious with these people for showing up and demanding this from me. After so long too. On one hand the Freudian explanation is quite clear. I've never felt like any of my family approved of me. I'd be pretty okay with myself and after 20 minutes in the company of any relative I'd be reduced to tears and desperately trying not to vomit as my stomach clenched up from the scalding humiliation of failing yet AGAIN. Clueless LA. Lame-ass LA. Fraidy cat LA. You name it and I could be counted on to blow it in their eyes. Never, ever fast enough, thick skinned enough, pretty enough, accomplished enough to make the grade. This was the primary reason I never called my cousin Robert back when he telephoned at Christmas time. I wasn't good enough for them when I was on top of my game mentally and physically, could you imagine the scorn I'd get NOW? A fat, cripple who sometimes stutters and is often vamping for time when I can't catch the word I want and spit it out? And what have I to show for my life? I'm a college drop-out, an unpublished writer, a loser who at the age of 40 finally bought her first house. I have one fat kid and the other one is autistic. Yeah buddy, that would wow them. I'm not saying they are right. They aren't. I'm proud of my new house. I'm proud of my sons. I have no shame over their "flaws". And any issues I have about being a cripple are solely my own and really come from my fierce struggle to maintain as much of my productivity and functioning physicality as I can. It's a battle I wage with myself, not one I fight against the world at large. Even my weight is more my own sore spot than any kind of general slam against fatness. It's just I know how I'd look through THEIR eyes and I have zero interest in opening myself up for their particular brand of abuse. That's the lovely thing about being a black sheep, I choose to be apart from them and since my disappearing act is no more than what they'd expect of me anyhow, I am FREE. Nobody is keening and wailing over the loss of me in their lives. This I know for certain. At most a few of them might be curious in that "Whatever happened to...?" kind of way. The same kind of curiosity responsible for so much E! and VH1 programming. But not a single person I share DNA with is leaking any tears because I got and have stayed gone. I am definitely the Harry Potter to their Dursley. Only unlike poor Harry, I never have to go back to them and put up with their shit. Though it might be worth hosting a party for them if I could serve Ton-Tongue Toffees and Canary Creams. ~LA the Unrepentant Prodigal
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