Linguistic cartwheels in the stylings of a rant, these are the thoughts that keep me up at night.
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I am a 20 year old female writer residing in Central New Jersey. My influences include the great Dave Barry, Neil Gaiman, George Carlin, and the two greatest editors in the world, Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling. My webpage can be found at www.homestead.com/foxfyresden and I can be reached at Foxfyre33@aol.com. Happy reading!
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Tuesday, April 29, 2003
"And he whose soul is flat - the sky/ will cave in on him by and by."
I see the human spirit as something rather like my roof. For several years now, we've had a leak that kind of snuck around the skylight and occasionally deposited drops of water on the rug upstairs. Not a big deal, but still kind of naggingly annoying. So, we got someone out to fix it. The someone, halfway through the job, got distracted by the promise of a high-paying job, and left the problem unfixed. He threw a tarp over it, vowing to come back later.
Now, in accordance with Murphy's law, Mother Nature snickered and brought in the biggest storm Matawan has seen since the days of Noah. The tarp, stretched flat instead of the natural slope of our roof, collected more and more water, bowing through the hole in our roof and eventually breaking. The water streamed through the ceiling, through the king-size bed, through the floor, through the ceiling fan downstairs, and eventually ended its brackish journey on our brand new living-room carpet.
The slope of the roof is kind of like being a well-rounded person. The original problem was the equivelent of a minor social ailment. When you try and dissect everything to get at what is, in essence, a minor issue, and then leave it unfinished and patch it over, you become a false person. You become flat. You are against the natural order of things. Each day is like the next, and you are caught in the eternal quandary of the rut. Those that are 'flat', spiritually speaking, see a sunset for a sunset and are unprovoked to consider the deeper meanings; are unmotivated to elaborate or embellish beyond the face value of what their senses perceive.
Now, I am far from flat, both biologically and spiritually, so no one could ever accuse me of being otherwise. However, there are people who lack 'the touch'…that certain spark of life that illuminates the artists, poets, and enlightened of the world. These people live their life in something of a dull stasis, merely living day to day and neglecting to consider a larger picture, and where they fit in said picture. They eat what they are spoon-fed by society, and become flatter as the days continue, eventually beginning to not only flatten, but bow inwards. It rarely happens in a rush, hence the 'by and by' of the quote, but is rather a slow weakening…each day only adds a drop or two of water to the proverbial 'tarp'. The breaking, the eventual 'fall of the sky', so to speak, does come in a rush, though…and those afflicted sit in the aftermath, quite often wondering how they never noticed the gradual decline of their life.
~Fox
6:57 AM
Monday, April 28, 2003
I find myself in a place where I not only have the usual artist's loathing for my own works, but genuine fear.
Perhaps I should differentiate between my 'works' and my 'journal'. I fear perhaps one or two of my works, but a good portion of my journal. Nothing terrifies me more than the thought of reading my Journal entries from my happier times with Jon, in the beginning. I don't know why this is...everything is done, and over with, and dead....I can't even remember what Jon looks like. I have no problem reading the angry and bitter entries right after my move home...but somehow I can't bring myself to even glance over my entries about the quiet happinesses of the everyday life we shared together, before his betrayal. I don't miss him anymore, though I did for awhile. Sure, I do have longings now and then, but that's natural. Never to the point of actually wanting to go back. The same with Marco...I kept a journal of some of our emotional intimacies, and I wouldn't open it now for all the money on earth. Why do I fear happy memories with the same intensity as I do my own death?
My own husband, the man I married and was wife to for a short six months, I can't even imagine our happier times together without panicking. It hurts, because I feel like I'm compelled to live my life each morning as if I was born that day. At times, a clean slate is a good thing. Often, it is not, for the lack of ability to recall the past for reference.
Any period of my life where a great love died becomes a gap in my memory. It becomes almost impossible to recall even the mundane, unrelated aspects of that era. I suppose all I can really be thankful for is that my great loves were few, and each very short in time span, comparatively.
~Fox
7:07 PM
Sunday, April 27, 2003
I don't want the perfect man.
I want someone who has different weaknesses than I do, so that I can help them with my own strengths. Occasional support is part of love's foundation - to offer an outstretched hand reminds us that though we may not be infallible, we are capable of good in the face of failure. Helping reminds us to be humble, and realize that, at any given moment, we could be the person who needs the very hand we offer.
I want someone who has different strengths than I do, so that they can help me through my own weaknesses. Occasional reliance also part of love's foundation. Though we would all like to appear entirely self reliant and superhuman, the truth remains that we will need, at some point, to ask for directions to exit 118. There are thousands of people in the world you can ask, but how much nicer is it to know that you won't receive a condescending smirk with your crudely-drawn map? Accepting an outstretched hand more than reminds us that we are human ; it reminds us that at any given moment, we have a trusted partner on this rocky parkway of life.
I want someone who has some of the same weaknesses as I do. Nothing unites like a common enemy. It is important to remember the "or worse" part of "better or", even if marriage is light years away. To suffer together, whether through a flat tire, fear of snakes, the death of a shared pet, or worse - brings two people together and reminds them that sometimes petty concerns or squabbles can conceal a greater good. It will give you something to look back on together and grimace, and eventually smile over, in your later years.
I want someone who has some of the same strengths as I do. There is nothing so beautiful as two determined minds set as one to the same task. To triumph together gives the world a golden glow that often suffuses throughout the days afterward. It serves to remind how well you can work together and cooperate, and what a sweet taste shared joy truly has. It instills a sense of purpose and hope for the future, and reminds us why that fellow contributor is in our heart.
I want someone who is agreeable on the little things, and not just the big ones. Too often we think that just because someone is the same faith or race, because they like kids, because they are the same political party, or any number of other larger similarities, that they must be perfect for us. We neglect far too frequently to consider if we could spend our lives with someone who fusses if they get wet in the rain, someone who hates the smell of autumn, someone who could never be a cat person, or vice-versa - the small details we almost always discover too late. Remember that all great things are made of of millions of tiny things - one misplaced brick, and a castle will eventually topple.
I want someone who is mutable, but not alterable. Someone who can stand up to my unconsious nitpickings and not-so-subtle suggestions. Someone who won't buckle in a fight with me, but nor will they drag it out to the point of permanent ill-will. Disagreement is a way of life - and it is only the most noble of men who can disagree with tact and aplomb. No one who would purposely hurt you is worth your tears, and the one who is will never make you cry.
7:13 PM
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