celainn's Blog

They have your eyes

Your nose.

I tell people this, try to show them

but they don't see it

or

they don't care.

Really, who are you to them?

Some distant relative they'll never meet

never know

And it's so sad

to me

that the person you were will die with us.

It doesn't seem fair, somehow.

It doesn't seem right.

I show them pictures, tell them stories

but they'll never know you

never love you.

I don't know why that makes me want to sit down and cry.

My mousepad

is new

Was wrapped in plastic

Now has that chemical smell

of my old garage.

The one where we kept our bikes and our two

cars and the general debris of lives lived in

the last third of the 20th century.

I remember I used to crawl through that garage

before that house was sold

looking for god knows what.

My mom never threw anything out

She'd just toss it all in there

and I used to hope I'd find

something spectacular

like the place was one giant

flea market.

I never found anything.

I did'nt even know what was missing.

But something sure was

and still is

and still is

but that house is 20 years gone

and I don't know where else to look.

I love everybody.  Everybody who is nice.  Big, small, short, tall, I have a fondness for humans.  I really do. 

But they are funny creatures.  I still don't know why they do the things they do.  I'm confused.  So maybe I need to make a few things clear here, just for the record. 

(and I know that writing this won't make a damn bit of difference in the long run, but I can't help but feel I need to say it, so bear with me)

I'd LOVE to be your friend, whoever you are, but you need to know some things first, it seems.

I am a woman.

I love, am turned on by, and worship other women. 

Don't get me wrong.  Guys are some of the best people to have as buddies and friends.  Guys are there for me when other women are often not.  Guys are true-blue, sweet and nice, smart and funny and bright and I would hang out all day with them if I could.

But I am not (nor will I ever be) physically attracted to them in any way. 

I'm sorry if this crushes your fantasy of hot steamy threesomes. 

I'm sorry if it hurts your sense of your own irresistible-ness.

I'm sorry if you think I'm a bitch because of it.

I AM sorry.  Please believe that.

But lately every SINGLE person who's added me as a friend has had a profile full of sexual shenanigans and nothing else.

I don't get it.  I'm confused.  My profile (to my knowledge) has none of that stuff.

To be honest I'm a little saddened. 

But I like people, in general.  I want to be friends.  I want to embrace every aspect of life and be open to whatever.

Just....could you stop acting like a sex robot and a bit more like a human being?

Just when I start to bitch about no EP support for my years and years of faithful...er....use, I get a new trophy.

5000 comments.

WTF?  5000??  Really?  Gimmine, that's a lot of writing....So er...yay me?

I am 43. 

And it's...ok.

I am still single - still not dating.

And it's...ok

I find it very odd that the thing I had always dreaded so

("You'll be alone FOREVER!!")

has come to pass and that it's...ok.

All those late nights furtively chatting with Mr. or Miss. "MaybeTheOne"

All that experimentation in my 30's with this or that mastorbatory aid

("Magic Wands or just lube on the fingers?  Compare and contrast.")

All that weeping, all that moaning, all that crying about not having what everyone else had.

All that jealousy.  All those feelings of inadequacy and "broken"ness.  All that regret and blame thrown at the mirror.

For what??

I am still here.  I am still alive.  I am still happy. 

Yes, you heard me.  I'm happy, goddammit.  I am happy being alone.

My god, why couldn't I have been as smart 20 years ago?  

I could have saved myself unending heartache

Just be admitting that I didn't actually need or want anything else.

This lesson (like pretty much every other lesson in my life) I had to learn from experience.

So, yes. 

43.

Single.

Happy in that state.

Maybe I'll die single.  That'd be fine.

As long as I die a very, very ELDERLY single.

I guess I must preface this with the idea that not a lot of people will understand what I'm about to (try to) say.  Then again, I've thought this very thought countless times on EP and been mistaken. 

That said: I somehow guess this time I will be correct when I say that most of you won't understand.  I am OK with that, but I will try my best to be clear. 

When I was a child I fell utterly, implicitly, and forever in love with men.

That is, their bodies. 

"That's what I am." I'd nod to myself happily. 

Until I passed by a mirror or looked down at myself and realized that, no: I looked nothing like a man.

Why I thought that I looked at all like a man escapes me.  Perhaps because I looked very little like a woman, either.  The basic woman parts were there, of course, there was no denying that. 

However, I didn't FEEL like a woman. 

I didn't enjoy the things that women enjoyed.

No one observed in me the classic (stereotypical) behavior of women. 

Hell, I didn't even LIKE women all that much. 

I much preferred to hang out with boys.

I tried to make myself look like a boy as much as I possibly could (and as much as my mother would allow at any one time). 

I didn't look and see a boy in the mirror.  No.

But I didn't see a girl, either.

...and every time I saw a guy (whether on TV or in the movies or passing me in the halls at school) I saw...myself.

Not what I wanted to be or what I should be...but simply what I WAS.

...and still, to this day, this feeling persists. 

Maybe that's why I have so few mirrors in my house...

Beautiful and heartbreaking.  That's all I can say...

Recently, for whatever reason, I've been going over old photo albums.  When the parents died, I became the only keeper of the old photos.  Why?  I dunno.  Possibly because I was the only one who cared to have them. 

Possibly for some other, stranger, reason that I still can't fathom.

As I look at these pictures my mom took I notice how many there are of my brothers and my dad and how few there are of me. 

You'd think I'd take an easier picture, as I never really went anywhere and sat still for long periods of time.  But no.  Not even one third of these pics are of me. 

Maybe I didn't take a good picture. 

But, more than feeling slighted that there are so many pics of other people as kids that I see on the net, I feel...sad. 

What does it mean that there are so few of me as a kid?

I want to see who I was, as if I could figure myself out that way.  I want reminders of my past, but even that is denied me.

I feel like if there were only more pictures, I could remember more and that more of my past would come alive that way.  Maybe I could rid myself of shadows and doubt if I had concrete evidence of my past.

Yea, but probably not.  I'd just use them as another thing to obsess over and dwell on. 

Less is more, right?

I can admit it. 

I am afraid.

Afraid to comment on anything nowadays in this atmosphere of

mis-trust

anger

fear.

Everyone is looking for stalkers

Or fleeing them

I am afraid that if I speak my mind

(and that's all I can ever, ever do)

I'll be labeled a stalker or worse.

Worse

would be if I commented and was re-buffed.

"You don't know me!" they write.

And they are correct. 

I don't know them, or their situation.

All I can do is be honest and try to relate.

But why write in so public a place if you don't want comments

From the great unwashed?

Personally, I am immensely thankful for every comment I've ever recieved: good or bad.

Comments help me grow.

Comments make and keep me strong.

Comments make me think.

I don't know what your problem with honest feedback is...

...but it has become my problem. 

It makes me hesitate to offer support.

...and that sucks.

You know that fine, fine feeling you get when you meet someone who you think is in total synch with you and that you two are two of a kind?  And you know how you then start that sort of "flirty, intellectual sparring" with them, just to see if you really are on the same wavelength and if they'll get it and if they'll be into it?  And then you know that feeling you get when they DO get it and they start teasing back as if you've lived your life together and you know each other's moods and tastes and inner thoughts, and you get that warm feeling rising from your chest - that feeling of being KNOWN and understood and accepted? 

And you know how you then coast along with them - trading witty asides back and forth - getting comfortable and starting to feel free to open up, because the person seems to know you so well?

And you know how you then tell them the secrets of your soul, and they respond in kind and you realize you have even more in common than you had originally thought?

And you know how you then hold this person close to your heart and show interest in what they find interesting and encourage them and lift them up so high until you realize that you are most likely falling in love with them (if you haven't already)?

And you know how things go on along those lines very nicely until something (gods know what) happens, they or you say a wrong thing and then a chink is exposed in their armor of perfection but thats OK because you've always known perfection is over-rated and gods know you aren't perfect either?

And you know how they then sense that you have realized the little man behind the great and powerful Oz and it doesn't MATTER to them that you are ok with them being human - they are NOT, and they are NOT ok with you knowing they are human?

And you know how the claws come out then?  You know how they rip and tear long gashes in you to get you to leave (using every secret you have ever told them) until the pain becomes to much to bear and you then give them their wish and go?

You do?  You know about all of that?

Oh good.

Can you tell me how to make it stop hurting?

I'd laugh but it isn't funny.

I don't want it but all the same

I keep reaching out my hand as if I did.

....and all the time

as I bait the hook in some haze of

Amusement?

Experimentation?

Boredom?

Despair?

All the fishies line up to bite.

All caught?

Good.

Time to throw them all back

Or leave them

flopping

on the shore.

Time to fish

then

time to cut bait.

Got this from RockyBear297

Start with 100% and subtract 1% for everything that you've done. Then repost as your __% innocent.

01. Smoked.
02. Drank alcohol
03. Cried when someone died.
04. Been drunk.
05. Had sex.
06. Been to a concert.
07. Gotten/given a hand job.
08. Been verbally/sexually harassed.
09. Verbally/sexually harassed somebody.
11. Felt someone up and/or been felt up.
12. Laughed so hard something came out of your nose .
13. Cheated on a boyfriend/girlfriend before.
14. Been cheated on by a boyfriend/girlfriend.
15. Been to prom.
16. Cried at school.
17. Gotten lost in a Wal-Mart or a department store.
18. Went streaking.
19. Given or received a lap dance.
20. Had someone of the opposite sex in your room.

PERCENTAGE SO FAR:  90%

21. Had someone of the opposite sex sleep over.
22. Slept over at someone of the opposite sex's house.
23. Kissed a stranger.
24. Hugged a stranger.
25. Went scuba diving.
26. Driven a car.
27. Gotten an x-ray.
28. Hit by a car.
29. Had a party.
30. Done drugs.

PERCENTAGE SO FAR:  86%

31. Played strip poker/darts/pool.
32. Got paid to strip for someone.
33. Run away from home.
34. Broken a bone.
35. Eaten sushi.
36. Bought porn.
37. Watched porn.
38. Made porn.
39. Made beans.
40. Been in love.

PERCENTAGE SO FAR:  84%

41. French kissed.
42. Laughed so hard you cried.
43. Cried yourself to sleep.
44. Laughed yourself to sleep.
45. Stabbed yourself.
46. Shot a gun.
47. Trash talked someone and then acted like their best friend the next day.
48. Been online for 9 consecutive hours.
49. Watched TV for 9 consecutive hours.
50. Watched an animal die.

PERCENTAGE SO FAR?  82%

51. Watched a person die.
52. Kissed somewhere with at least 1 person present.
53. Pranked somebody.
54. Put somebody in the hospital.
55. Snuck into someone's room and/or your own room after being out.
56. Made spicy beans.
57. Dressed punk.
58. Dressed Goth.
59. Dressed preppy .
60. Been to a motocross race.

PERCENTAGE SO FAR:  77%

61. Avoided somebody.
62. Been stalked.
63. Stalked someone.
64. Met a celebrity.
65. Played an instrument.
66. Ridden a horse.
67. Cut yourself.
68. Bungee jumped.
69. Ding dong ditched somebody.
70. Been to a wild party.

PERCENTAGE SO FAR:  72%

71. Been caught stealing something.
72. Kicked/punched a guy in the balls.
73. Stolen a boyfriend/girlfriend from a friend.
74. Gone out with your friend's crush.
75. Got arrested.
76. Been pregnant.
77. Babysat.
78. Been to another country.
79. Started your house on fire.
80. Had an encounter with a ghost.

PERCENTAGE SO FAR:  69%

81. Donated your hair to cancer patients.
82. Been asked out by someone that you never thought you'd be asked out by.
83. Cried over a member of the opposite sex.
84. Had a boyfriend/girlfriend for over 2 months.
85. Sat on your butt all day.
86. Ate a whole carton of ice cream all by yourself.
87. Had a job.
88. Gotten cut from a sports team.
89. Been called a whore.
90. Danced like a whore .

PERCENTAGE SO FAR:  63%

91. Been mistaken for a celebrity.
92. Been in a car accident.
93. Been told you have beautiful eyes.
94. Been told you have beautiful hair.
95. Been attracted to a relative.
96. Been attracted to a relative of your boyfriend/girlfriend.
97. Been rejected.
98. Left a restaurant without paying.
99. Punched someone/slapped someone in the face.
100. Danced in the rain

Start with 100% and subtract 1% for everything that you've done. Then repost as your__% innocent

I'm 58% innocent.  Whatever that means...  That said, something tells me I am 20 or more years older than the maker of this test and that if I were there age, I'd be much "purer" than the norm.  That's fine.

Fuck the norm.

I found a fascinating article here:

http://www.sentientdevelopments.com/2009/02/re-visiting-what-happens-during-life.html

about "“stress-induced analgesia", IE, how the body may go utterly numb when faced with trauma and how it's only AFTER the trauma that pain returns. 

Also stated in the article is the fact that the PANIC that goes hand-in-hand with such pain is also gone. 

I can attest to this.  And I know there are many of you who will laugh at me for stretching this article about physical pain to include the trauma of emotional abuse as well, but I still think it applies here.

I remember with UTTER clarity what happened 25-30 years ago, (or at least I remember what my mind has TOLD me happened) and above all I remember the calmness, the lack of panic on my part as I watched those I love being emotionally torn apart by my father. 

Did I hide?  Yes.  Did my mind tell me to run?  Very possibly.  But those are all hind-brain reactions.  I did not scream or cry.  I don't recall any emotions whatsoever.  My mind was blank.  I thought of nothing else but survival - living to see another day, and I wasn't actually WORRIED over it, I just wondered about it.  

I remember thinking very clearly

"Hmm, I wonder if the police will come."  I also recall wondering if fate would take a hand in the events.

"Maybe he'll fall down the stairs." I can recall thinking.  Not WISHING for it, really, but it was in the back of my mind as a possibility, because that's the only way I ever thought it could end.

I bet for or against my father's demise as if I was betting on a horse race.  So yes, not much emotion there.  Not at the time.  Not, incidentally, for quite a LONG time.  I was as much a zombie in school as I was at home. 

So anyway, yes.  A fascinating article.  Go read it!