Comfortable with Quirkiness

January 12, 2005 at 10:19 am (Uncategorized)

I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. “You are such a freak!” My eyes shifted to the left, where my alter ego stood, hands on hips, smirk on her face. Normally I put Little Mizz Thang in time out if she gets on my nerves. She doesn’t come around as often as she used to so I cut her some slack. Not tonight. I have a really pretty hammer… its silver with a bright orange handle. Black & Decker or some shit. Its a very pretty hammer. And I used it to bash her skull in.

I really hate negative talk and I’m the Queen of Negative Self-Talk. Errrr… I used to be. Maybe I’ve dropped down to Lady-in-waiting, better yet, scullery maid. Yeah, scullery maid… oh, wait, no barmaid at the local pub. I LOVE those revealing cinched dresses. I can’t wait to make myself one. Oh la la.

Shit, I was up there… about negative talk. Stay on track here. What brought this on was Jack. Our loveable Texas narc. No, no, no, I take that back, it was Fleece. Our loveable lamb.

Fleece said: “Addictive shooter…hmm, that came out all wrong. You know what I mean. And dammit if all this talk about you holding a gun in the shooting stance doesn’t make you sexy.”

I said: “Fleece. Stop. Now. I was just about over the whole “I screwed my Sig into the back of Buddy’s neck” from “Twenny Rock” and you had to bring up the whole gun, shooting stance, sexy thing. (Oh my God, I am so sad, I knew EXACTLY which post that was from!!! Note to self *GET A LIFE!!*) I’m gonna go stalk Trashman now…”

This is why Little Mizz Skull-Bashed-In Thang reared her ugly head. And boy is it ugly now… hammer claw marks… not exactly a fashion statement. I realize though, that I just can’t help it. I remind myself it was not my fault that I was born with a photographic memory. But, I even think that is a misnomer. I believe it is simply the way my brain processes information. I don’t know how that is. I don’t try, that’s for sure.

Yes, self, I’ll admit that I’ve read Jack’s archives a few times. Why? Because I enjoy them. I’ve read every Harry Potter book at least five times, if not more. I’ve read “The Wolf’s Hour” by Robert McCammon until I had to duct tape the spine together and at least two or three pages are missing. I’ve read “The Outsiders” over 100 times. I’ve read Patricia Cornwell’s books over and over as well.

Sigh, but I know it’s not just repetition… I can remember acute details of things from years ago. Dates.. especially dates. Numbers mean order. I assign order to my life through numbers because I have no other order. I used memorize license plates because I’m bored on the way to work. (I finally broke that habit!)

I didn’t re-read a lot of the archives for my Best of Blogger posts. I just filed away my favorite parts. Maybe I didn’t remember the name of the post, but I can tell you what it is about and all I would have to do is read the very beginning. I knew that it was “Twenny Rock” that had the screwing Sig (damn if that’s not sexy) in it but I had forgotten that it was Lane with Jack. So, its selective.

Perhaps it was the image of the bald faceless goateed man named Jack who resides in our minds eye as a Texas Spiderman… errr Scorpionman… (Remember the scorpion sting? And Alex’s hair stuck in it? When Jack went to pick up his brother at the airport after his dad passed away? Its called something like “God has a sense of humor” or something like that… no, no, no.. “God is a Comedian”. When? After his birthday which is October 8th.. I think, but before my birthday which is November 21st.) I don’t have time to look it up. Besides its posted with the Texas Contingent Best of Blogger.

Back to Scorpionman… now, we don’t really know what Jack looks like, its sort of a mosiac based on his descriptions, bald, goatee, and the partial pics he has posted… so, he’s tall, his beard is blond, and he has beautiful arms and abs and… nevermind. But, that’s not what it was about. It wasn’t the physical face, it was the emotional face. The connection is made from the emotional impact of how sexy it came across that he shoved a gun in some guys neck.

See, you are a freak!

Thunk! Shut. Up.

I know I remember things much more vividly when there is more emotion involved. I assign it significance because of that. And that may very well explain why I have such a “photographic memory,” why I process information the way I do… perhaps its the empathy. I have a heightened emotional awareness. I can feel other people’s feelings. Okay, but that doesn’t explain how I can read an article in Reader’s Digest in the late 70’s, early 80’s about a little boy who was killed in California. I have NEVER, EVER forgotten that little boy. That little boy named Robbie, whose parents (mother and stepfather?) abused him so badly, they killed him and then placed his body in an empty freezer and buried him.

That’s not a good example because it obviously had an emotional impact on me and therefore is more likely to be remembered. Maybe that’s what it is… I ASSIGN some sort of emotion to what I read and what I hear so that I’m better able to remember it.

Or is that why I read the same books and blogger archives again and again… to experience that emotion? To remove myself from here and place myself in another time, another place? Is that why I prefer rock music? The heat, the beat, the emotion behind it that I don’t find in other music? Is that why I’m drawn to ‘bad boys’ or good boys with bad sides? Am I an emotion junkie? Or is it because of the lack of the physical manifestation of emotion in my life?

Is it because I’ve never truly had a fulfilling relationship, where I’ve received what my soul needs? Is it the assignment of emotion… or the trickle down affect of their emotions bleeding onto me? Is that why I love sex? One of the physical manifestations of emotion, whether it be love or lust?

I am an emotion junkie. And bloggers feed that like a bad case of malaria. It waxes, it wans… but it always comes back. Better than being a barmaid with a crack habit. The man who gets me is definitely going to be satisfied.

He’ll probably be a freak too.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Shut. Up.

I like freaks.

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