Saturday, January 14, 2017

Changing tracks - Of Dragon and Woman #26



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That wasn't so hard, once I sat down to do it. Don't know why this page took like two weeks more than it should. The subject isn't bothering me that much.

Although I have been thinking of my bullies in school lately. This here is basically a textbook literal example of Bullying A Dragon, and you might think bullies aren't really that dumb, but let me tell you, they are.

I terrorized my bullies. I stole stuff from and planted stink bombs in their desks. I saved a piece of bread in my mouth for an hour to spit at them once. They thought it was puke, and I didn't correct them. I told them, privately and sincerely, I was going to walk across town on a night when they least expected it, sneak in through their window and slit their throats in their sleep. I used shoes and yardsticks and cement snowballs and every wicked tool within reach to inflict as much damage as I could. I understood the principles of Machiavelli before I ever heard of him; that if you should hurt your enemy, you should destroy them so utterly you need not fear their revenge.

I was tougher, faster, smarter and more patient than all of them, and they knew that. I had no respect whatsoever for the rules of warfare or any respect for their basic human dignity or any understanding of the basis of civil human interaction - I really only learned empathy when I was about 24 - or any considerations other than solving the problem of getting them to stop being such shitty fucking human beings, and they knew that too. I'm not trying to be self-aggrandizing here; I'm just saying I was a fucking monster with greasy hair who might respond to any given aggression by biting or farting or simply sitting still and letting myself be quietly strangled in order to make you feel bad with equal probability. And nothing would stop my bullies. Self-preservation isn't their strongest skill is what I'm saying.

So, does it seem extreme for two big boys to sit on a girl so a third one can hit her with a stick, knowing she can tear them to pieces with her hands but chooses not to? No. The only thing they care about is getting a reaction to validate their sorry existence. This I learned in grades 1 through 8. The reasonable solution is of course to withdraw. The world clearly doesn't want us in it.

To take place, to speak, to care, to trust, to live at all is an act of rebellion.

That got a lot heavier than I was expecting. Anything fun that's been going on? Well, I've been trying to quit caffeine and sleeping 12 hours a day at inconvenient times. Again. Watched Arrival which is like a two hour emotional gut punch mixed in with the hope of being able to understand both the universe and other people.

That was good. Also I'm much more proud than I should probably be over a thing that happened in the trailers before the movie. A Scottish accent said "Choose life" and, just like that, maybe fifteen years since I last saw the movie or read the book, I knew, with surprise: They're making a sequel to Trainspotting. I confess I'm not super hyped to relive any dead baby hanging from the ceiling staring at me- trauma, but it's fun to just know this is a thing that exists.

And speaking of books I read fifteen years ago, I watched Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, which is wild television of the most finely thought-out kind. It makes you feel smarter just for trying to figure out what's going on, and it makes it seem possible that being open to the interconnectedness of all things can let you ride the synchronicity waves and have the universe work for you as you work for it.

Oh and my best friend has a water damaged bathroom that's going to make her apartment unlivable for an unforeseeable future while her insurance "maybe" supplies some loaner accommodations and the paralyzing fear of possibly needing to move is preventing her from dealing with any of this. So, some ups and downs.

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