I was AIMing with a friend this morning who said something to the effect that he was not trying to get to know the real me through my posts. I told him it was a good thing because I’m not even sure who that is. I’m more honest in my writing than ever and have plans to edit less and less of myself until all you see is a mass of veins and truth laid out on a page. But the real me is still in question. For example, while I was delving into one of my favorite reads this morning I was reminded of a post I made on January 22 of this year. I gotta thank Error for reminding me of that post, and hence who I was and what I was feeling just four months ago. I rarely go back and read anything in my own archives.
Thing is, I’m constantly shifting. I resent the person I was in January when I wrote that post because I knew who I was then. I was on the verge of something but damned if I remember what. Now I have plans, but no clues. I was centered.
Now I’m back to finding my way in the dark, looking for what ever closeness I had with myself a few months ago. And I’ll find it. And I’ll lose it again. Same pattern. Relentless repetition.
Am I the only one? I think not. But what does it matter. Lately I just feel so utterly isolated. I see how others live, how those around me at the lab interact with one another….and I wonder what it feels like to feel as they do. Not that I truly want to know. I just wonder. Most of their interactions involve gossip and small mindedness and there are only a couple I can relate to on any sort of level that doesn’t numb my senses, so I avoid any sort of conversation beyond the weather with the majority of people there. But I observe. I’m always observing, scanning, taking mental notes and forgetting them as soon as they are jotted down.
Part of me just feels like I’m never going to grow roots. True roots. Deeply embedded roots that can not be dredged from the spirit and tossed aside. I keep moving from place to place, relationship to relationship, assuring myself that it’s permanent this time. And it’s been mostly lies cleverly constructed to shut up my inner voice. And deep inside something is screaming and I haven’t a fucking clue what language it speaks.
May 13, 2004
Giving Up Hope
Since I spoke out against the abuse of Iraqi prisoners, I’m going to put my two cents worth in on the beheading of Nick Berg. I saw the video this morning. I know, I know, I probably should not be watching that sort of thing. But I did.
It’s easy to say that the people who did this should be killed. And, yes, I think they should be since it would at the very least rid the earth of them. But you can’t kill the idea or the mindset that caused them to do it in the first place. You can’t purge the earth of that kind of brutality and sickness. It just can’t be done.
I wish we lived in a world where no one tortured anyone, no matter what the means or cause. We don’t live in that world and we really never have. We can speak out against it, we can write articles and blog out against it, we can take to the streets and rally against it, we can try to shove peace down all the throats of everyone on earth; but we can’t get rid of this sort of brutality.
I used to have a hope that we could. I don’t have that hope anymore.
After posting this I wen’t over to Brain Crayons and read her entry for today. I swear there must be something in the blogwater making everyone write about the same thing on the same days.
She chose not to look at the images, and I have a great deal of respect for that decision. I do think that, especially in times when I am being particularly assaulted by the memories of horrors I’ve experienced myself, that I should avoid all media that wants to further assault my senses with more graphic violence than I can safely tolerate at the time. For a lot of people having already experienced significant trauma in their lives the scars left by those experiences pulls a curtain partially closed over their souls, making it difficult to do anything but try to manage what they have already experienced and shield themselves from further damage. I think for those of us trying to manage, it’s hard to distinguish just where the middle ground is on not wanting to cause further damage to our own psyche, but not wanting to live in a fairy tail either.
All I can seem to think of at the moment is that a co-worker who just gave birth six weeks ago brought the baby by the lab yesterday and I held him for a good while. I think about his beauty, his soft skin, the way he smelled, his warmth and then I think of the visuals I chose to look at in the video of Nick Berg. The spectrum of emotion is overwhelming. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have looked either.