New beginnings

Every new beginning comes from some other new beginning’s end…
–Closing Time/Semisonic

There are some changes, big ones, going on in my life right now. The kind that are scary, difficult, and hurt people. Hopefully with better lives as a result.

It’s generating a lot of supportive messages from
people who love me. I’m not so sure I really deserve it, but I am immensely grateful for the messages and the people sending them all the same. I don’t know how many times I have said it this week, but I am going to say it again:

I know the best people.

That’s easy enough to say, I guess, but the thing is I haven’t always been able to see it. For one thing, for a long time I didn’t think it was true. Oh, I knew I had a great family, and there have always been a handful of people I trust absolutely, but I was suspicious of almost everyone else.

It’s very hard to make friends when you’re both introverted and suspicious. When you assume the worst, that is all that you see.

Not so much because people are doing so much sketchy shit (hint: they are) but because it’s what you’re focused on. All of the really great stuff passes by unnoticed because you’re fixated on the crap.

People who know me at all well are raising eyebrows at this, since I am prone to cynicism and doubt. I always will be. I am never going to look at things with an eye completely free of skepticism. What I am trying to do is notice how much more good there is than bad. Instead of trying to catch people doing bad shit, I’m trying to catch them being nice.

It’s not like I will ever be Pollyanna, let’s be realistic, but I can try to see whatever good there might be. Sometimes, it is harder than others. There are people who challenge my efforts. Some people hide their positive traits pretty deep.

So here’s the other thing I have been saying a lot:
I am so lucky.

That is also something that depends on how you interpret things. It also can mean different things. It can mean that you think you didn’t really earn something. It can mean that you think that things turn out well, better than expected. It can mean that things could easily have been worse. It can mean you win when you gamble.

I’ve been lucky enough to go to France even though I had no money, to not burn anything but my arm when I set myself on fire, not to get shot by an armed robber, not to have been born in a place where a woman’s life holds no value. It goes from the mundane to the ethereal, and it’s an essentially infinite list. Although I am relatively pessimistic, I also believe pretty firmly that although some awful things will happen to me throughout my life (see fire and robbery above) I will get through them all and that none of them will be as bad as they could have been (not dead or horribly maimed).

Some types of things require action to determine the luckiness of the outcome. If you don’t ever look for a job, you won’t ever be lucky enough to find a great one. Or at least, the odds are diminished.

If I never create a piece of art, I will never be lucky enough to sell one.

Not sure what my point is today, except that in spite of all of the changes I am putting my family through right now, I am still grateful for everything and everybody I have in my life.

Everything will be not only fine, but good. Better.
How do I know that?

Because I am lucky.







An imaginary conversation about television

Hey..so…do you have any idea why there is a 100 foot wide television in the living room?

100 foot wide? That is pretty big for a 15 foot long wall!

It’s enormous. It’s larger than the actual physical space. I am pretty sure it has disrupted the time/space continuum in some very nasty way in order to get into our home. It could even be some sort of evil invader. How did it get into our living room?

I bought it and had it delivered.

Why? We already had an unnecessarily large TV.

Sports. Movies. Your naked Swedish vampires.

Sports? We always go to bars.

Now we won’t have to.

We like going to bars.

We can watch movies on a bigger screen. And don’t forget naked Swedish vampires!

Naked Swedish Vampires would be an excellent band name. And don’t think your ploy to distract me is working. I wasn’t unhappy with the size of the unnecessarily large TV we already had. And..where might that be?

In the bedroom!

No.

Yes. I put it in the bedroom.

I will be taking it right back out.

Why???

Because bedrooms are for sleeping and sex. Reading. Not for television.

I like to watch TV in bed sometimes.

Then have one put in your room. I don’t want one in mine.

My room? I don’t have a room.

You might soon.

Because of a TV!?

Because what we have here, Cool Hand Luke, is a failure to communicate.

Uh oh.

Uh huh.

So what should we do?

I was thinking I could be irritable and hard to live with for several days and then take the TV out of the bedroom, put it in your office and then forgive you.

That sounds like kind of a bummer.

It really does. I hate being irritable, and I like it when you’re happy. It sucks. We don’t get into any really good fights.

We could fight about your unreasonable red shoe habit…

You don’t have the moral high ground right now. You might want to save that for next time.

Damn.

Wait a second. That enormous thing in the living room isn’t supposed to be my birthday present, is it?

It was a surprise.

Well, shit.

You’re welcome.

I do kind of like naked Swedish vampires…they are probably even more awesome with 20 foot penises.

20 foot penises would also be a great band name.

It would!

Does this mean you’re skipping past the part where you were going to be irritable?

Well, I do love getting presents. The other TV is still coming out of our bedroom though.

Damn.

I’ll make up for it somehow.

Really, I should be the one making a special effort. For your birthday.

I’ll put some champagne in the fridge.

Do you think you are dealing with an amateur?

I do not deserve you.

Ditto.

Leaving home

When I left home for the first time, I was 17 years old.

In the middle of the night, I opened my bedroom window, tossed out a backpack and my car keys, pushed my car to the end of the street so it wouldn’t wake up my step-father when I started it, and drove away.

Either he was going to kill me, or I was going to kill him. I didn’t intend to give him the satisfaction of either. My black eye and broken ribs would heal, and my step-father could fuck himself. He was certainly never going to fuck me again. I just wouldn’t think about my mother. Not yet.

In a few weeks I would be 18. Then I would be safe. That’s what I thought. That if I was an adult in the eyes of the law, my bastard of a step-father could never hurt me again.

It turned out I was wrong about that. I was wrong about everything. Almost everything. He never raped me again. As I climbed out the window that night, I was sure that the worst thing that would ever happen to me was in the past.

There are worse things than being raped and beaten by your parent. Much worse. No one should ever have to know that, should they?

As I drove away from that place that was never my home, I didn’t cry. I would save that for later.