I am here in this room because this used to be a study, but now it is a ‘safe room’, the children’s room. Linda is off doing adult things because I tried to be there, to carry the adult things earlier, only I went boom. I fell down. I forgot things. I know what I am, and more importantly what I am not. In little ways, my own little world is starting to pass me by, or leave me out, because either I am incapable of understanding it fully, or unable, literally to withstand it, anymore. I get a second chance at the incomprehension of childhood but without the innocence.
I told someone, to not be fooled, that while I use a language set that comes with this packaging, in many ways I am 12. This is my age, or younger for understanding things and the way things work for most hours of the day which include the way I interact and the way I cannot understand certain things which are not put literally. If you do not say “Yes” to a question then I cry. Because if I say, “Do we have cookies. I would like a cookie please.” And you say, “I’m going to the store later tonight.” Makes me cry, because I can’t have a cookie. While you think, “Hey, I told her I was going to the store!” Except, I don’t know that “going to the store” means, “I will pick up some cookies.”
Last night, I was hurt very badly, in ways that were complex, as in a couple different messages I got told me that to SOME Christians because I love Linda, that absolutely nothing I do can have ‘real’ meaning. That my postcard project, my heart, my love, my fidelity, my devotion, my whole being is negated because I don’t have a husband, even if he rapes me at night and beats me for cooking incorrectly (because then he would be Christian, with some things to repent for, but Christian). And I live next to a country, where not thousands, or tens of thousands but tens of MILLIONS of people see me this way. A seller I thought I had a very good relationship with, of whom, I won’t be buying anymore, asked why I wasn’t buying ‘certain’ anime boards which she thought would interest me and those ‘in my club.’ Well, the boards were all of two women, being intimate. My ‘club?’ Jeez lady, it is called LESBIANISM. Called being Bisexual for those who are that way. It isn’t something where every time I kiss Linda a light goes off in the “clubroom” and we are sent membership cards. I am with Victor, who tattooed “Sin” on his ankle because 25 years of being together doesn’t count. But getting someone who is currently being investigated on 57 counts of sex charges with children to 'join you in holy union', as long as they are a priest or minister, well THAT is real, is it?
We are moving into my least favorite month, December where people say things, like, “Well, I would get mad, but ‘the season’ you know.” Oh, so you are going to be a hypocrite? Which is right now, when I am on the cusp, remembering the hundreds of thousands to millions of people who died over a few hundred years because one side of Christianity believed that Christians were eating the ACTUAL body of Christ as soon as it entered the mouth, while others believed it became human flesh only once entering the stomach. There was a small group that believed it was symbolic, but EVERYONE killed them! So onward to the Celebration of the birth of the Zombie King and His Cannibal Army. I pretty much had to leave the last few times I went to a church on the chipper and Canadian nature of the Eucharist. These nice ladies in sweaters with cats on them shoving a plate in front of you asking in a voice of utmost politeness, “The body of Christ? The broken body of Christ?”
What do you say, “No, thanks, I killed a guy called Bob and have some of him in the car.” Such a cheerful display of Cannibalism, which by the way is left usually in the lobby for the kids afterward, in case some of them get thirsty, they can have, a few glasses of, according to what was intoned, “The BLOOD of Jesus.” I have to say I’ve been with some cannibals in New Guinea but they never were so darn cheerful about it, nor did they leave extra body parts out for the kids to munch on between games later – no, that you find in a CHURCH! But me kissing Linda, that’s so offensive, people can’t even say the word for it.
Also found out that acts of caring, of giving, of sending out postcards for some people, a hardened group of people puts you in “that wacky disabled lady” category, right next to the guy who stands with a billboard saying: “The fall of stocks, is the gateway to Satan in 2013.”
I wanted to know the rest of the story, so I asked, “So, um, Satan, is he good for the Canadian dollar or not?” (Let’s try to stay focused, I can’t buy as much on ebay!).
Turns out that Satan is creating a North American Currency called the Nuero or something like that – sort of based on the Euro, which I was in Europe for the use of and it seemed to overcome the nature of the beast with…life going on as business (another things is that MILLIONS to tens of millions of Christians are also Xenophobes in this continent ).
“Yes, yes, one currency, but is that GOOD for the Canadian dollar?” I persisted.
“No, my daughter, for Satan hates all flesh.” I was told.
“Well, actually,” I responded, “I’m not that keen on flesh right now (what is it with the Christians and flesh!?).”
He looked me over in the chair and said, that God was holding not a new body for me, but a new being, since my soul, spirit and consciousness weighed, “21 grams” and that I would given the job overlooking galaxies.
Yes. 21 Grams.
“If I am going to oversee Galaxies,” I asked with him nodding, “Can I bring a friend, because it sounds lonely.”
That answer went into how we are all going down under and there is plenty of company for those of belief (and unbelief). Er…okay. Anyway, new job in my future, according to one of the Cannibal Prophets.
Sorry, got distracted. I went out today, and spent all of my money. I did that because I didn’t actually know how much things cost and this week after a particularly long sizzle in the brain, I lost the ability to sequence numbers. Meaning, I give the pretty money and they give me things. Or do things for me, like framing. And I took my money and my stuff in my h.naoto backpack and went down to the printers, and the woman there (and the staff who said, no, it’s okay, I’m very entertaining), was doing stuff, like making the custom matte for me and I got a lot done, I think it was 12 or 14. Because I am sending out things, even though Linda says I am supposed to keep some things for me. But sending things is fun, even if you don’t always hear back. While hoarding is boring because I forget where anything is. And because some days, like today, it is impossible to make myself happy, but the idea I could make someone else happy almost makes me very happy. Or rather, why waste things on something that is dying, that is death, that is losing the brain, when I can, while I still have some understanding, give to others. Because I don’t need a special month or an appointed time to tell me that I am supposed to give a damn about humans, who actually sometimes have a crappy day the OTHER 11 months of the year.
Then I came home and it seems that I was not able to be good for Linda who is having much trouble at work, because she still isn’t sick (well according to doctors she is, but not to her boss, or boss’ boss). But I can’t deal with that because when I do, I go boom and because I am not the right kind of person. I don’t understand politics, I only understand right and wrong. I have only ever understood right and wrong. And that some head of a government agency is acting like a coward and bully doesn’t mean a political move, it means there is an overweight middle aged man who has forgotten what right and wrong is. And that he is tasked, by the executive branch, AND IS LIABLE FOR, the creation and maintaining of a harassment and discrimination free workspace. Believe me, I know all about these people as I sat across from one myself who couldn’t understand why would I stay on? I mean, it was clear no one LIKED me, that is why they harassed me, why security wouldn’t come to protect me. As he said, “We did have that one person with AIDS but after they were fired, that problem was solved.” This man saw a workplace free of discrimination and harassment. And that is why I didn’t quit. Because, maybe “I wasn’t making friends in high places” in that company, but since that comes from a guy whose solution to a person with a medical condition that is feared is to fire them, do I WANT his friends.
Anyway here I am in the children’s room because Linda needs to talk to adults about adult things, because things I tried to help with before made me go unconscious and I was put in bed and to bed and quite honestly it is very scary around here right now for me.
There is a feeling I hope none of you get, where you realize that you cannot understand what is going on, that there are too many things that are too complex and that even the simple things are going away and you can’t understand. That I do not know what day it is, or what money means in terms of buying things in shops, or that now many of the places I go regularly protect me from myself, or losing money because I don’t understand it. And that I want to help, I want to be that person I remember in the memory of me, but I'm not. And at the same time, or other times, I cry because it is dark and it is 4:00 pm and I don’t understand how that can be. It is the fear and frustration that things fall, and I don’t know why, and so like a child who wants the pretty leaf to go back on the tree, I want things that are not only impossible to happen, but impossible to understand for me, right now. Maybe, I will have a good day, and some good hours, and ‘get it’ and be some use. But right now, I am confused and vulnerable, and I will not stop being so until I become even less. I cannot get out of bed, I do not know why, when I wake, I am in bed, I do not know where I am. This is the minutes.
And when I can remember, and I do, I work on postcards or gifts, and I sent out 18 on the weekend. I know that I am not supposed to talk about that except, I accomplish so little and am dependant on so many. So I was able to wheel myself to the store and work to get some more gifts made. Which reminds me; my sister, Dawn, is having a very rough time, because last year, her brother died, leaving her alone. She didn’t give up, but she is grieving, and she is hurting. And she believes that no one cares. I care. And I want to believe that of the people who may have read down this far (probably should have put this ABOVE the bit about calling Christmas, the celebration of the Zombie King and the Cannibal Army, huh?), please, please, go to her website, and let her know, give her a comment that you give a damn, okay. If her email was listed I would say send a card, because her brother was a special person. I know that because of Dawn, and her grief, and how very much she misses him, and I know Dawn, a special and giving person. And so this time of year sucks really bad for her.
Right now, some people I care about are frustrated because not good things are going on and when I try to help, I don’t. And they get frustrated at me because I think I was the person I was, but I am not. And Linda went a few blocks over to beg. Beg my parents to help with some of the monthly costs; not all of them, just ONE regular monthly. They said they would ‘think about it.’ And it seems right now that I am in a place, or a world where people are having a hard time, the people that I love, and I don’t know how to help them. Or if I think I do and if I try, I hinder, so I stay in the ‘children’s room’ out of the way, because it is all I can do. I think Linda is done now, and I will post this. She says that I am ‘fragile.’ I supported her for 8 days, but now, that person who supported her is gone. I understand simple things, simple pleasures.
I would like to believe that one day I will wake up and you will all be here, and I will touch you, and things won’t be confusing again more. That I won’t be a grown up child, losing more of my capacities every day. I used to be in the .01% in math: repeatedly tested. And I can’t add three single digit numbers. I would rather, honestly to be able to wake and see you all in my house, and know that I don’t have be a lesser person because I don’t understand some things. I could see Raccoon, Anna, Karin, Joan, Ruth, Dawn, Lene, Laura, Cheryl, Thea, Abi, Veralidaine, Drake, SharonMV, Tammy, OneSickMother, Yanub, Wendryn, Frida, Neil, the whole gang and we WOULD have cookies and that would be enough, I think, to touch people. And they wouldn’t care that I wasn’t perfect in everything I said and we could talk and have some fun and all do postcards together and sticker up cards to send out. We would have fun for a day. Does that make me the wacky woman in the wheelchair, I guess it does.