Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The early years, part 6

I haven't gone looking for anymore old pictures yet, and the ones I do have here are from when I was a little older, so this post won't be as pretty. I sometimes forget just how cute I was as a kid!

Anyhow, I can't really say that my life was all shit. I wasn't happy by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn't necessarily unhappy, if that makes sense. I had, and still have I guess, a distinct sense of apathy, and dissatisfaction. I didn't get angry until later, and that was partially due to hormones, and partially because I didn't feel like I fit, and lastly because of my history. But that's the '(pre)teenage years' and we're not there yet.

We stayed in house 3 for three whole years. This is very important to note, because it took me a year or so to finally make friends, and I was glad I got to keep them for 2 whole years. In this time, I started to feel at ease with myself. Slimo eventually evacuated the picture (mainly I think because my mother had moved on to finding another man). My mother denies that he was around as long as I say he was. She didn't have anything to say though when I showed her a picture from Christmas in house 3 where he was in it.

My relationship with my brothers was always strained, as I'm sure it always is when it's 2 on 1, but in my heart of hearts I knew they loved me.

AT this time, I wrote stories upon stories. Some for school, some just for the sake of writing them. I remember being in grade 2, and reading the emperors new clothes. I finished the book, and sat pondering it quietly, and then read it again. After I completed the second reading, I left the sanctuary of my room, and reported to my mother that I just didn't get it. She asked me what I was talking about, and I told her that I'd read the story, and then read it again, because it was clearly trying to tell me something, but I just didn't get it. She asked me if I could accept the story as just a story for now, and read it for the 'message' again later when I was a little older, and maybe I'd get it then.

This was a bit of a turning point. Never before had I looked for 'coded' messages in literature, and I would again in the future, but I'd also accept that sometimes a story is just a story, and sometimes the message is just what you take from it, not some secret code the author put in to teach you something.

Like I said, most of this time of my life was fairly uneventful. There were girls that were my friends, and a boy who liked me. There was a girl who when I wouldn't walk with her (because my mom told me to walk a certain path, and never deviate without my bothers) would get pissed at me, and push and spit on me
(funny story... I ended up meeting this girl again later in life, like 15 years later. She remembered me, because well, I look almost exactly as I did back then, however she, well she didn't look at all like her childlike self, so I didn't recognize her right away, and ti took me some hardcore thinking to finally conjure her up. She was angry at me for not knowing who she was right away, and would be generally a jerk to me. Well, one day I turned to her and said "You know C, I think I do remember you now. You were the girl who was always pushy and bossy and had to get her own way. funny how some things never change")

I think the most excitement that I ever had while there was one morning I was walking to school (alone now, I'd convinced my mom that it was okay) and I heard someone tapping on a window. I turned, and there was a man, fully nude, fondling himself in a huge window. And he was staring at me. I remember standing there frozen in time for a moment... and then I remember running like the devil was chasing me to school. Once there, I managed to put it out of my mind, and go through the day...

I didn't walk that way to school again for another year or so... and reports that a child molester was living there and and been moved away from the school district were running rampant.

Yea... things got pretty boring, but hey, that's what good life is all about.. a series of events that seem boring when you look back at them from afar. Next time... I"ll talk about the kitty cat club... bible camp... meeting my step dad... and various other things I'm sure.

1 comment:

Elise said...

From what I can recall of my childhood, it wasn't very eventful either. It's actually thanks to my friend Kate that I remember most of it, because she has a memory more akin to your own. Sorry that you had to deal with another sexual deviant, though. I've had some fucked up shit happen to me sexually, but it was all during my teen and adult years.