Enthusiasm, an Open Heart, and a Selective Memory

(that thing you always are, that thing you'll always be. again.)

I found unmailed letters, written by my mother.

On My Sixth Birthday

"I was so afraid that this year would change her, rob me of her headlong joy. It should be a lesson. She is as brave and intractable as ever. She reads as a fully literate person and will not print to prove it to them. Her birthday wish this year was that everybody be at her next birthday."

On My First Day of Grade One

[Brian P. was a boy that i was fixated on as a very young girl. after 2 solid years of HARD rejection, i gave up on boys altogether. i didn't develop another crush until late junior high, and didn't lose my virginity or get a boyfriend--in that order--until first year university. but the Brian P. story goes a long way to explain the way that i approach life; enthusiasm, an open heart, and a selective memory.]

[K] "started school today. After a summer of not missing school or Brian P., she was wildly impatient for the morning to pass and school to start. Spent the morning buying Snoopy pencil case, crayons and ruler at City Pharmacy. She couldn’t wait for school, wondering/hoping that Brian would be excited to see her. Completely forgetting that she had accepted that he hated her before school closed. She wanted me to walk her to school. More and more excited as the minutes passed, planning show and tell. She will take Scrabble Sensor and give everyone in the class a word. She has it all thought out.

At one point as she dressed, she called out “I’m really a big girl now, aren’t I?”. Walked her up, leaving at 10 to 1. When we came to the gates, she raced in forgetting all about me [and my baby brother]. Very few children were there, all appearing older. She drifted from one group to another. Stood outside the fence, unable to tear myself away, marveling at her enormous strength and bravery. Only then realizing that I’d taken [K] half an hour early. Watched her stand, alone, for a time.

[K] came home with word that school was terrific. Asked if Brian was happy to see her, she said no. He hated her. When she told him she was moving, he said, “Good”. And she didn’t even chase him or kiss him. She looked regretful, then in typical [K} bounce back said, “sometimes he does like me to chase him, you know”."

You Might Like Me Now, But I Will Like Myself More Later

"Again? Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Jesus Christ. Really?"

"Yes."

I make terrible first impressions. I make terrible second impressions. Hell, I make terrible fifth impressions. You might think you know me, but you really won't until you've logged some serious hours with me. Until you do, you will think I'm wild and gregarious and brave. And it's true; I am those things, in part. But I'm also very anxious in a lot of social situations, and I bluff better than most.

I'm a great dinner party guest. But it's not necessarily me you're hosting.

I'm often told, after the feathers settle, months into friendships, how much quieter and softer I am than initially perceived. How calm and soothing and focussed and gentle I am. How much less space and energy I consume. I know how intense I can seem, how exhausting it can be to keep up with me in a large social situation. Imagine how tired I get.

I try to tell people off the bat how anxious I am, as if to hopefully diffuse the anxiety. It seldom works. Nobody believes me, they pour me another drink, and I tell another ridiculous story. Everyone laughs.

Stick around, I want to say. It's worth it.

During my short-lived experiment with internet dating, I used to talk a lot of talk about going with my gut. About the lizard brain, and not wanting to waste time. Over the last few months, I've been feeling somewhat badly about the men I cut off immediately, without allowing them to warm up. The lizard brain only really tells you if you want to fuck someone. The lizard brain knows nothing of companionship, and can really only tell you how the first three months will go. The lizard brain fucks, and eats crickets. That is all.

I am the most confusing kind of slow burn. I start at a rolling boil. I polarize people. The energy somehow forces them to make snap judgments about whether or not they like me, romantically or otherwise. Except it's not really me, of course. This is why, I suppose, women often drunkenly confess at parties that they hated me for the first six months they knew me. Men come back to me later, after we've become friends, after we've decided not to date, and I've moved on. They get to properly know me, and have some sort of epiphany, and...i'm so amazing and how didn't i see it at the time and why don't we...There is one man who, 13 years after he put me in the friend ghetto, still emails me three times a year to tell me that he is in love with me. I haven't seen him in a decade. He's not the only one.

No. This is not about you. Or you. Or you, for that matter. It's about me. It's about the girl who thrice moved in after first dates, now wanting to go slowly. Wanting to go very slowly, and trying harder to give people the time to settle into themselves in the hopes that they will grant her the same generosity. Friends, lovers, whoever you are, be patient. You might like me now, but I will like myself more later.

That Thing You Always Were, That Thing You'll Always Be

(i just got back from an extended trip to new york. it was so spectacular that i'm still processing it, but hope to find a way to articulate how great it was soon enough.)

Over the last-night dinner in SoHo (corn dogs from house-made hot dogs and Tecate, in case you were wondering), we had a discussion about the character traits that define us. These traits manifest themselves pretty early on, and they often do not change over time.

I walked very early, as a baby. Like, freaky early. I just stood up one day, stumbled a few steps, then ran. Expertly (albeit in one direction, in laps), for an hour. And then I tried to change direction. And then I fell. Hard. Apparently, I sat in silence for a bit, then howled with rage and embarrassment. I didn't stand again, let alone walk, until much later than is normal. But when I finally did, I never looked back.

That's me. In a nutshell.

I'm still walking.

delete

i've been deleting myself all over the place of late.

untagging.

un-posting.

deleting.

culling.

i'm not going anywhere, just being quieter. i prefer quiet and stillness.

but don't worry, i'm not going anywhere. i'm just turning the volume down.