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Scrambling Brains
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My God, I Confess
In Your Face

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Life, viewed sideways. Emotions, amplified. Answers, questioned. Me, between the lines.

- A Wounded Heart, Who Can Bear?
- Drowning Under a Tidal Wave
- Clawing My Way to the Sunlight
- Yes, Santa Claus, There Is a Virginia
- Fugu
- Touching the Spirit
- A Hole in the Universe
- Riding on the Dreams of Others
- Turning Into a Shark
 - A Heart, Ripped Asunder
- Surrendering to the Roller Coaster
- Hunting in the Jade Forest
- Dodging the Shark
- Dancing With Invisible Partners
- The Captain and the Harliquin
- Courting the Devils
- The Captain Makes His Mark
- Mad Dog to the Rescue
- Innocent in the Big City
- Dropping the Ball Briefcase
- Scrambling Brains
- Cheating the Reaper, Again
- What If the Man Behind the Curtain Is No Wizard After All?
- All of Us Have a Soundtrack
- Working With Broken Machines
- Happy Anniversary, Baby
- Standing on Stars
- Running the Film Backwards
- Identity Crisis ("Who am I?")
- Can We Ever Really Admit the Desires of Our Heart?
- Forgiveness is a Rare Thing
- Having Your Heart Caressed By the Creator
- Working With Broken Machines
- A New Leg to Stand On
- The Real Spirit of Christmas
- Chatting With Infinity
- Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
- We All Have a Great Capacity for Loss
- Brushed Lightly By Might Have Beens
- We See the World Through Our Own Looking Glass
- Every Storm Passes Eventually
- Accidents Can Introduce Destiny Into Our Lives
- Freedom Depends on the Walls Around Us
- Pulling Aside the Velvet Curtain
- Riding the Razor's Edge
- Dying With Strangers
- In Your Face
- Between the Lines
- The Bobcat
- Angel With a Coffeecup
- Innocent in the Big City
- Chains of Gossamer
- Playing With Knives
- Stumbling Through Memories (Ooops)
- Picture This
- Running the Film Backwards
- Playing the Score, Tasting the Music
- Coins and Corals and Carved Coconuts
- My God, I Confess
- Exotic in Thin Air (Part 1, Speechless)
- Exotic in Thin Air (Part 2, Taxi)
- Exotic in Thin Air (Part 3, The Pan American)
- Exotic in Thin Air (Part 4, Guano)
- Exotic in Thin Air (Part 5, The Andes Express)

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"From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines, going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me."

Walt Whitman (1819-92)

"When I look back now over my life and call to mind what I might have had simply for taking and did not take, my heart is like to break."

Akhenaton (d. c.1354 BC)

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Friday, March 26, 2004

Living in a Fun House Mirror

Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English wearp; akin to Old High German warf warp, Old English weorpan to throw, Old Norse verpa
1 a : a series of yarns extended lengthwise in a loom and crossed by the weft b : FOUNDATION, BASE
2 : a rope for warping or mooring a ship or boat
3 a : a twist or curve that has developed in something orig. flat or straight b : a mental twist or aberration
4 : Life, here at work

Astonishing, really, that I got a clear view of the world yesterday at an attorney's office of all places. Right there where the bending of reality to fit is a daily occupation, real life stepped in and took a seat.

Sequestered in my closet of an office, working with the dysfunctional group that I work with, I forget that there is another world, a real world, out there.

And I need to be reminded of that.

I went by to drop off some information with our corporate counsel. Our office used to be in the same building, and I know most of the folks there quite well. When I walked in, I felt a respect that I have not felt in a long, long time.

And you know, it felt right. And not some sort of vainish "right," but a real, deserve it right.

I was comfortable.

I was among friends. People that honestly cared, people who were not afraid or unwilling to see me as I am, people who did not feel they had to somehow tear me apart to make themselves look good. People who were proficient at what they did, knew I held them in high regard for that, and returned the favor.

That's the way the world is supposed to work, isn't it? I never thought I would experience anything different, and I miss it like I would miss air if I stopped breathing.

I figure we have until next Wednesday or so here. It's that bleak. Its all fingernails and duct tape here. The stress level is wearing everyone thin.

Out there, somewhere, is the world I remember. I just have to make it that far.

It seems so far away.

Life has become warped, bent, like a reflection in a fun house mirror at the fairs I remember as a child. What's fat, isn't. What's skinny, isn't. What's tall is short and short is tall.

Everything is sideways and its hard for me to cope with it. I have to stay focused on the fact that this is not reality, this is only a situation. I cannot weigh myself by these scales.

My scales are better, and true.

Adulthood isn't an award they'll give you for being a good child. You can waste... years, trying to get someone to give that respect to you, as though it were a sort of promotion or raise in pay. If only you do enough, if only you are good enough. No. You have to just... take it. Give it to yourself, I suppose. Say, I'm sorry you feel like that and walk away. But that's hard.
Lois McMaster Bujold, A Civil Campain, 1999

Permalink: 3/26/2004 12:22:00 PM |
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