When i was a kid, all of my fantasies were about being left alone.
I had fantasies about being a princess locked in a tower. Of waking up one morning and finding that everyone had turned into a small pile of gray dust. Of being lost in the woods. (I studied woodscraft for a number of years to prepare for this eventuality.) Of the aliens coming and taking everyone but me away. Of living in a huge castle or a network of underground caves all by myself.
I moved through the house soundlessly; I could leave when i liked and my parens would never hear me go. I would climb out my window and crouch behind the clematis, watching the quiet street from my unseen position.
I played by myself endlessly; some of my happiest hours were spent in the field next to my aunt and uncle's house, where the weeds were higher than my head. I made narrow trails through the grasses and tamped down areas that were rooms, and played rabbit all unseen. There was a tadpole pone in the field, too, which I caught tadpoles in.
I'd slide down into the space between my bed and the wall for hours at a time, content to lie among the dust and think. I fell asleep down there fairly often.
It was partially a negative thing (as other people bothered me, on the whole) but mostly a positive thing—I genuinely enjoyed being by myself, and I was my own preferred playmate. My mother recalls me being a strange and spooky kid; quiet and (generally) obliging, prone to distant distracted looks and playing out novels' worths of plot with my plastic animals.
The odd thing is that this penchant for solitude seems to be fading as i get older. I still enjoy my own company, but now i actually seek out other people sometimes. i can deal with being in another's presence for more than a few hours without running twitching for the hills.
and, of course, i have a definite love of living in cities. lots of people involved with that.
go childlight21
and the truth
given casually:
you will, perhaps
never have children
without their help.Fine,
you say.
But at 23
you think you
have fallen in love
and rethink that answer.Babies
haunt you,
perfect pink bodies
smooth chocolate skin
eyes with and without
epicanthic folds
begin to rustle
under your skin.
everything reminds you
of your ovaries
lumpy raspberries
of wasted potential.Fine,
you say, louder.
I will not grieve.
I will smile and claim
the writing and the cats
as infants.
You play with the children
friends bring, diffidently.Besides,
babies are nothing but smelly stinks
and noise
(and petal-perfect smiles)
and they never turn out
quite how you think.
It was never your hankering
to be a mother, anyway.smile
when you mother asks
when she gets grandchildren.Remember
some children hate their parents.But
don't share the secret
the immutable
incorrigable
unreasoning craving
for a child;
remember the horrible world
and be secretly glad
you do not have the choice.—ksf, 9/9/99
Best reason to live with the folks:
The median [Seattle] house and condo price rose 16 percent in the past two years to $215,000, while rents increased 8 percent to an average of $708.
how goes the war?
Once again, we have siezed and enjoyed a crab rangoon stockpile, making two glorious crab rangoon victories in the past two days. A minor usability skirmish ended in a draw.
