On an unrelated note, I found this memory of a revelation that I made two summers ago:
Repetition of moral pitching set upon myself by me.
I'm learning more about myself. Some through self-speculation, but much of it is reflected in how others react to me, recipients to my behavior and emotions. Even if this isn't spoken verbatim, I can nearly sense this. It's a womanly thing. Right.
Dan sat in the Chair of Truth. You don't have to be drunk to sit in the Chair of Truth. It's a human need to rest and sit if chanced upon. I, too had sat in the Chair a couple of nights ago. I simply wanted to sit, occupied in whatever preoccupation had enveloped my body to stick out my butt and rest my body through my center. [I also didn't collapse into the Chair of Truth.]
I think there's something provoking me in pursuing my basic wants. It's hardly a moral thing anymore, but rather the odd pursuant [plague?] of Guilt, who riddles my head with thoughts of not Myself, but Others in my life. What am I doing to myself? What is it that I truly want? Schooling, working, lovemaking. My mom telling me that the matters of the heart will be the Obstacle that prevents me from achieving a verily ambitious future is TRUE; I do believe my ambitions concerning my career have waned since opening myself to others. It's also not safe, leaving this trail of sadness and anger - my spectral self stumbling behind my giddy whirlwind of intense desire, clutching her chest and behind held down by the chains of arms belonging to various men and women [affected].
I hate being a pragmatist. But at the same time, I can't allow myself to develop Cat Lady tendencies. At least, not anymore, since I've nearly been killed by a cat. A cat. I might have to add that this is not exclusively a Guilt towards the Others, but a Guilt of myself, as selfish as that may seem. Could be the Catholic in me. [Perhaps this is Moral.]
I'm so momentarily happy right now. I cannot and probably should not explain why. [At the time, it was the sensation of pursuing a new sex interest.] To find myself at odds with this... determination to spurn myself into spiritual and physical satisfaction is very quite disconcerting.
Let's talk about possibly invalid [completely valid] excuses using the Self's psychological past.
When I was 14, I had this sudden revelation. I realized that this particular event in my life, or should I say a series of events, had an excuse for being such a nag to my memories. When I was five and six, my father had a friend who would join my father's mess of friends who visited us on a weekly basis to get utterly drunk and wasted. I believe over a period of several months or so, this one man was very nice to me. He'd lead me out to the back patio, sometimes by myself, sometimes with my infant brother. In these occasions, outside of a close vicinity of [my father's] drunkard-friends, this man would slip down my panties, labeled accordingly to the day of the week, and colored so, and he would probe me with his fingers. This nightly activity included him asking me if I liked what I felt and whether or not I need to "go pee." I answered truthfully, yes I liked what I felt, and sometimes I did have to go pee. The man would rub until I got uncomfortable and wench away, and he would pull my panties up into my wetness, smiled and walked away. I cannot lie: the want to follow him out to the patio each time he employed this smile [was always present]. Finally one night, my father and this friend got into a huge argument, and I never saw the friend again sans my uncle's wedding. At this event, I balked at his sight and drunken state, and long afterward, the memory did not return.
Sexually, I believe that I am a wreck. I cannot decipher in what sense yet, but when I was 14, I believe that I will one day sense what happened and what is wrong with me in this moment in time. This makes utterly no sense. But when will anything lie open and willing such as this? Perhaps only as Jonathan Franzen wrote, a "floozy."
No comments:
Post a Comment