missed my flight. I can never seem to sleep before a flight except for the 2 hours leading up to 1 hour past the time I’m supposed to be getting ready to leave. I get up late; my bags aren’t packed and there are at least 5 chores that I absolutely cannot leave unless I have done. So I missed my flight. I spend all night worrying about missing my flight and then once it’s clear that I have no more power over the passage of time whether I worry about it or not, I relax and let go. I’ll either miss it or I won’t. Today, I missed my flight.
I have taken lots of flights now so I make more than I miss by a lot. Every night before is the same. I try to sleep. I try to sleep early but can’t. I try to wear myself out even if it means I get to bed a little later. Anything to get to sleep. It usually doesn’t happen. So…I’m on standby because I missed my flight.
What would happen if we let them loose? What if those girls who had to always be ready to fight, won every single battle waged against her? IF the boy who “knew she wanted it” ended up the shamed one? what if the uncle covering her mouth and ignoring her dazed silent struggle read the danger in her resistance and simply stopped? Who would we let loose upon the world then?
There are so many different times that I have started and stopped because I couldn’t imagine anything perfect to work on. It is not unusual for me to get caught up in perfect. I also get stuck because I don’t have anyone to talk to when I get stuck. I don’t like the forums. Responses can be obtuse without being helpful; often sending me down two other rabbit holes to find a way to apply the solution that turns out to be wrong for what I want. Nevertheless, I keep coming back trying to figure it out because there’s something I want to say. I don’t know what it is but I keep trying to say it through learning this web stuff. so yeah, trying again…
The gaze. It’s all about he gaze. Movies are. who’s looking. who you want to see. it’s never me. I assume, presume; it’s no one like me. but I am looking. Looking for myself sometimes. looking to be some one new who will be counted when they check to see who is looking. but that’s impossible from the bits and pieces that I cobble together. no one is looking for her. no one would even know what they see; except me. looking to create a version of myself that I like who is not who they see or who they show but who is acceptable to me as I am, as I gaze, as I show who I am to those I want to see.
Is that what they do? James Cameron, Stephen Sondheim? Is that what they do when they do their movies? they what to show you what they see and they only see what they want and they only want to show people like them, regardless of who it is that might be looking?
I don’t know. I want to write. I want to make movies where I see me in the ways that I want to see me; as a witch, as a hero, as villain so blue, you remember her; want to be her in spite of yourself. and more, and everything.
It was a virus. She found hints of it in the fossil record during one of her stays in the psychiatric ward at Grady Memorial. That’s where I met her. She had been there a year with no sign of release. The cops brought me there on a 72 hour hold after I had unsuccessfully run my car off of spaghetti junction. Well, I successfully ran the car off. I just didn’t die. The car glided past the railing, rolled once and bounced on the driver’s side door, popping it open and throwing me out. I ended up rolling mostly gently down a cascade of mattresses from the 18 wheeler that was below me while my car bounced again and hurled itself into the woods a fiery mess. No one else hurt; not even the truck driver. I had chosen a relatively unbusy time in the middle of night on a tuesday. That the truck was there where it was when it was, was a sign of the kind of luck I was adamantly against.
Something about her energized me. Already at 17, I’d had my fill of other people’s energy laying on me, oozing across rooms to knock me low with the lie of it all. AT the same time I needed to understand it because it was honest and it was nothing like anyone else in that hospital. I could feel them all; energy vampires, and werewolves, unfeeling monsters and parasites, and no one felt like her. Within 72 hours I could tell if she was enraged from two floors away. And we would act it out together; though she never saw me I don’t think. For as long as she bounced herself around her room, screaming, throwing food and shit, ripping and tearing at her skin, her clothes, I would do the same around my ward (minus the shit throwing) until eventually, we wore ourselves out.
That got me my own extended stay and a private room of course.
It was never my desire to live forever. Just not something that I hoped for myself. I lived through the seed war and the solar war and barely through the fashion war. How we came to fight over fashion after almost starving and burning ourselves off the earth is a feat uniquely possible only for us humans.
It’s not that fashion wars had never happened before . there were historical references. Red for the 8th Parallel, blue for the Yellowcabs . green for the 45th street saints, pink if you were unaffiliated which became your affiliation of course. I don’t think the people of that time would see it as a fashion war, but I have the benefit of time and distance and no one left who could argue with me about it.
The things that we do to each other. All of us thinking that we are special. all of us thinking that our individual survival means the survival of the human race. hundreds of thousands of years of humans birthing and dying and still we persist in the mistaken belief that god is watching for what one individual did or didn’t do.
why it matters is that even if forever isn’t for me, the techies figured out how to make it happen for those who wanted it. It started out pretty altruistic as these things often do. A scientist who had been working on a solution of long distance space travel wanted more time. she was so sure she was closest to solving the riddle and with a little more time she would work it out. she couldn’t just pass her information on. she was so single-minded about it that she didn’t think she could bear her death if the person who took over decided to take any path other than the one she had laid out.
She was right of course. The year after she reportedly died, The consortium that came into possession of her work, discovered several of the things in her lab could make them billions. right then and there, they stopped working on her space travel riddle and began marketing a half dozen of her accidental discoveries. She had created artificial heart and lungs sets that could withstand a number of diseases and were recyclable. She’d managed to build organic lungs that could switch from air breathing to water breathing along with the process to transplant them into a living person. She had also created moldable organics that could replace muscles and nerve groupings making it possible to replace limbs by plug and play into a special titanium spinal cord sheathe. They say she never tried to recreate the brain.
She was fair minded, according to reports from the people who worked closest to her. Years of honing her work allowed her to eliminate the standard business concerns that kept lifesaving ideas out of the hands of the people who needed them most. She whittled a way at each solution until it could be created with organics you could grow. You could walk into a hospital with your own replacement parts. This was of course the basis for the seed war.
Kind and thoughtful, your spirit is in line with the practices of Buddhism. More at peace with philosophy than religion, your spirituality rests within wells of knowledge and wisdom. You have a deep appreciation for life and the makings of our reality. For you, knowledge is sacred – as are acts of kindness and sincerity. Buddhism centers on happiness and wisdom, and the sanctity of inner peace – all things you hold in high regard.
“Underpinning all of Buddhist thought are the Four Noble Truths:
All existence is pain.
All pain is caused by human cravings.
Detachment from craving will end pain.
There is an eightfold path that leads to the end of pain.
Buddhism avoids paying much attention to deities, but places great importance on self-discipline, meditation and compassion. It is through these avenues that its followers achieve the equivalent of a spiritual union with higher powers. As a result, Buddhism is sometimes regarded more as a philosophy than a religion [source: Losch].” – Discovery.com
“Any organization, whether biological or social, needs to change its basic structure if it significantly changes its size. Any organization that doubles or triples in size needs to be restructured. Similarly, any organization, whether a business, a nonprofit, or a government agency, needs to rethink itself once it is more than forty or fifty years old. It has outgrown its policies and its rules of behavior. If it continues in its old ways, it becomes ungovernable, unmanageable, uncontrollable.” – Peter Drucker Quote