Archive for July, 2012


Out through the In door

* I would like to begin by saying that by having written this, I will in fact upset a good many people. Mind you, that was the last thing I wish to do, however, every  writer knows, you have to remain true to yourself in order to retain integrity, both in yourself and that what you compose. I apologize in advance if my words offend you, the reader, for any reason, however, I long since stopped apologizing for myself, and I am not about to begin now…

I’m sure I am not alone when my answer to the question, ” what were you like as a kid…” is met with the words, awkward, unpopular, bullied,…. and the list could go on and on, but you get my drift.  I was never comfortable amongst my other school mates, and usually the object of much ridicule. I didn’t have the same interests as the other kids, I liked books and music, plays and off the beaten path films, I wore thrift shop clothes ( WAY before the days of thrift shopping actually being cool, then, it was, well, gross ), had an unusual family and I always got along with the boys in the neighborhood far better than the girls.

I found girls to be untrustworthy, scathing, vapid, self serving, you know, the kind where you stepped in deeper puddles. Girls talked about you behind your back and were quick to gang up on you. I had a few gal pals growing up, so I wasn’t completely without female commeraderie, how ever, looking back, I usually preferred to spend time alone. After all, that was the best way to listen to records, read books, or go exploring on your bike!

As the onset of painful teenage years came to roost, I got to really know, as Warren Zevon so eloquently put it, Splendid Isolation. I went to a military high school that has less than 200 students, so the blaring neon sign on my back that simply stated, NOT COOL was wonderfully even more visable! High school proved to be a punishing 4 years, but also,  I began to learn to stick to my guns a bit more towards the end, having made some marvelously outrageous friends that didn’t march to their own tune, they moshed, thrashed, body slammed, and spewed poetry like fast growing vines. But again, I was, as I came to later call it, a ” Fringe Dweller “, never really in the mix of it, more like a voyeur. I loved to wander off in my car with music blaring and a journal in my passenger seat, so much so, that when I graduated, I wandered right out of state and onto Nantucket Island in lue of going to college. I knew that structered, spoon fed learning enviroments were not for me, as I told my folks when I was about 16 or so, I wasn’t going to be a typical daughter, I didn’t want to go to college, get married and have a bunch of children, that it was better they knew this now. They both blinked at me for a few moments, then asked me what my plans were, I said, none, that I had decided to go to the college of Life, and I would figure it out along the way.

I spent a wonderful Spring and Summer in Nantucket, turning the age of 19 without my family was awful lonely, I hadn’t really made any attempts to make friends on the island, So I took an older lover,a writer, and worked and wrote and of course, listened to a boat load of music.

I was the kinda gal who read the liner notes, who could tell you what side and what track number a song was. Music was always my ultimate fascination, even my favorite line from my favorite nursery rhyme as a child was ” And she shall have music wherever she goes”, still my idea of true bliss, so much so that I aquired a tattoo of music notes dripping down the inside of my left ankle. There is nothing about music that doesn’t thrill me to my core, and that will only change when I have gone to take my dirt nap in the bone orchard. Guess that’s the trademark of  ” We, the Music Heads “, music is our best friend.

Into my 20’s, living with an older fella who had the money and called the shots, so when I wasn’t working, I was with him and his friends and family ( I didn’t actually begin to grow a spine till my very late 20’s ) and for the most  part, I was fine with that. I had a gal pal who I now see rather enjoyed my social awkward ways, it made her look cool, so we hung out. And it was with her I met the best friend I ever had, his name was Ian, remember that name, it will come up quite a bit later, as not only was he  my best friend, but the catalyst for the telling of this story and how I came to be the person who worked up the courage to write about all that made me step out of the In Crowd. Somehow, along the way, I had turned socially awkward into socially acceptable, and found myself with the In Crowd, and many may wish to shoot me for what I about to say, but as of recent, I want out.

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Estella, revisited

She turned her back to the rising sun and the song of the crashing waves, sea salt stung her eyes and spray clung to the thin cotton of her shirt. She swayed with the gentle weight of the waves bouncing against her tipsy frame. The night had ended, if it were a film, this is where she would have turned her back towards the sea to find herself alone, the music would come up and the credits would role. He would have long since walked away, for having finally had his say after all these many years.

But this was real, and she knew that she must walk back to the waters edge and say more and hear more than she thought could bare. She had begged him earlier to lash out at her, to finally spill his anger upon her poisonous path, and with each sentence, she urged him to further. When he had finally come up for air, she had tears, but not for what he had said, but for all she had done, and all she could do was look upon him and say ” We are who we are, people don’t change “, and with a weary sigh, despite the many horrible things that she was, he wrapped his weary arms around Estella, and whispered sadly into her ear ” you are forgiven”.

Those were the last words he ever murmured to Estella, for he finally knew that love and forgiveness could never repair what had broken within her long ago, and that his own heart could never survive any more of her. If only he were able to hold tight to the fleeting wisp of a flicker of hatred he once felt towards her, for in loving her, he would never be safe.