tapping on the glass

It weird to know you are reading this, yes you, whoever you are. It's weird to know you are reading what's supposed to be the inner most workings of my mind, when you really don't know who I am. You don't know that I had my first kiss (I'm talking tongue here) in second grade with a kid named Ryan Smith, who's real name was Christopher Ryan Smith, but he got too many pooh jokes, so "just ryan". Or that I learned the way of manipulating someone's affections shortly after that when I bribed a kid named joel (who was quite attractive for a second grader) with a gigantic sugar cookie with m&m's in it to be my boyfriend. Or that my teacher was Hawaiian and that I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen (I had a thing for older women even then). You don't know that I have a blue velvet pillow that I have had ever since I can remember being cognizant, and that I don't like to sleep without it. You don't know that I played Lady MacBeth in fourth grade, and that I had an affinity for her, madness speaks to madness. Or that my first illicit beer was an extremely old can of Old Milwaukee pilfered from my best friends pantry. It made him literally sick and me disgusted. I was something like 8 or 9 years old. Or that I used to make suicides in a Detroit Lions football shaped thermos that I brought to school in 6th grade. Or that Kevin Soules exposed himself to me on the playground in a game of truth or dare, I wasn't fazed. He told me the next day that he and Tyler thought I was the coolest girl around because I didn't "freak out" like other girls would have. I didn't have the heart to tell him how much I wasn't just like other girls. You don't know that I had my first joint on the back deck of my friend Joelle's aunt's house. It was the dead of winter, there had been an incredible ice storm and everything was covered in a sheet of ice about two inches thick. We huddled outside in night clothes getting stoned. You don't know that I was sent to the school social worker because some teacher thought I was going to commit suicide, or that it wasn't the first nor the last time I would have to reassure other people that I wasn't going to off myself. You don't know that a teacher once told me I was stupid and that I was going to hell. Hurray for public education. Or that I went to more funerals than parties in high school. Or that my friend John made a bet with me that I would get my eyebrow pierced if he got his nipple done. That I fulfilled the bet in some sub basement in Toronto, right before a show at the Pantages Theatre, we were all dressed to the nines. Or that my friend Erin held my hand, because I hated needles. And that it didn't hurt, I just wanted to hold her hand. You don't know that I fell in love with a tiny minnesotan girl who tortured me until it hurt just to look at her. Or that the most peaceful sleep I have ever had was in a small single bed in Ireland where a girl named Stacey (whose bed it was) cuddled up to me and raked her fingers up and down my back until I fell asleep. Or that my friends and I were once the floor show at a bondage club. Or that I've been to the Sex Museum in Amsterdam three times, and it's not even worth the price of admission once. Or that I was kicked out of a sex shop in Dublin. Or that my favorite food is green olives (yes I know it's abnormal).

If you've read this far, I admire your tenacity. You're probably asking yourself why you should care about all the useless crap I have made you read, and I can only tell you that that's the kind of stuff that interests me about people. The random memories that combined to make your past, to make you you. So, obviously I can't force you do anything, but how about you leave me a little tidbit about you? Some little something from your past, and leave your intials so I have some idea of who you are. Whenever you read this, whether it be tomorrow or a month, or a year from now. Leave a little something. Thank you.


Anonymous said...

I was trapped in a hallway for a week in a third world country when i was 6. I was told my mother father and brother were killed in a bombing raid when i was 7. They lied to me, it wasnt true. i can't look at a bug and not remember what it was like to be the bug, small and insignificant. My favorite colour is smoky blue. Its the same shade the sky was when i was deported (not suspended) from my elementary school and sent to recover in another country. I fear the sound of the phone ringing in the middle of the night. I'm afraid that my high school reunion will be just me and a few teachers. I like the smell of the grass after a hard rain. I buried my dog tags with my little brother. I buried myself with my little brother.


Anonymous said...

I was in 1st grade and my teacher kept hitting me with that damn pointer with the black tip telling me to put the pencil in my right hand. Watching my father beat my sisters for the even punishment rule, me being the youngest was last, so I watched and silently cried knowing my turn was soon. Enjoying recess at school with all the girls in the cement pipes in 4th grade, feeling each other up. Getting my very own first pet at 12, a turtle that could hinge himself closed for days on end, me wishing (and still do) that I could do that, hide within myself not be touched or bothered for 72 hours, damn loved that turtle, he died 25 years later. Seeing the ocean…still an awesome site. Holding my daughter in her first few seconds of birth, never to forget. Watching the sunrise in the absolute quietness of the morning, thinking how will this day will go? EKH

Anonymous said...

I’m the youngest. I was always in the gifted classes yet no one outside the class would ever know. I was always told I was the funniest, but I was never once the prettiest. I was always picked first for every team and last for every dance. I was the girl that was fun to have around but was overlooked when it counted. I lettered in 4 different sports in High school, and received several scholarships. After practice I went to a friend’s house and found her father dead of an apparent suicide. That night for the first time, I heard the wails of a woman who had lost her husband and a daughter who had lost a father. I was 8th in the nation in my track and field event in college. One drunk driver, one accident and I lost the free education. My first kiss from a girl was Kaycee V. She was beautiful. I lost my innocence to 3 men who wanted to show me why being a lesbian wasn’t for me. My best friend and prom date in high school carried me 3 miles to his home that night. My girlfriend of 3 years left me when we ran out of money to survive. My father told me he was proud of me and could wish for nothing more in a daughter.

Life is funny that way… for every moment of triumph there is one of great despair. A blessed life is one where the sum total of triumph overshadows that of sadness. That is my wish for you