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minor rebellion ~ #6

Today my computer yelled at me.

Well, more accurately, Facebook yelled at me.  Funny how guilty you can feel after a scolding from an inanimate object run by electrical impulses sent through a system of mysterious, invisible, mathematical equations.  (is the internet alien-based?  hmmm….that’s a blog for another day)

I play a stupid, addicting cooking game on Facebook, and we used to be able to add friends willy-nilly.  Which is great, because this game is ridiculous and you have to bug everyone you’ve ever met in your life to advance at all.  Complete strangers are helpful in these quests; they don’t know you from Adam, but don’t care –  they’ll send whatever parts you need so long as it helps them down the line.

But Facebook has changed a ‘friending’ policy, so that you can’t send friend requests to people you don’t already know, or know friends of.  (this blog is getting confusing; are you with me here?)  Which is great, really, because I feel more hopeful about the stalker I tried to block, and the chance that he might not be a bother again.  (although technically I still work with him, so I guess this won’t help overall)

Well I failed to read all the fine print of the updated ‘friend/not friend’ prviacy policy, and I got a note that the Facebook gods were scornful of me and needed some kind of blood sacrifice, or a gigabyte of cheese pizza or something.  Yeesh… make me feel guilty for playing your damn game, why don’t you!  So, I’m sorry person I upset by sending you a note that you could have easily just said “NO” to.  And I’m sorry Facebook, that I upset your delicate structure and offended your new and improved policies.

Whew…getting in trouble by strangers and the World Wide controller of all thoughts is hard work, and tiring.  I better go lie down.

Minor Rebellion # 5: ‘children playing’

this kid doesn't look all that slow to me...

The end of summer is drawing near, and while the sky is a beautiful clear blue, I have selected a short sleeved sweatshirt top and shorts for my outfitting.  Despite what people think of Southern California, there is fog in the morning, bursts of rain in the fall, and an occassional blustery wind sweeping through from a blazing forest fire somewhere in the hills.  It’s best to be prepared for sudden chills at the beginning of fall.

Plus, the area I am playing in today is shady with trees and the sun hasn’t found its way in through the foliage cover.  But that is fine with me.  I’m feeling a little secretive today anyway.  My friend – Mary – has asked me over for a long last day of freedom before our new school year begins, and we have to start worrying about geography, vocabulary and math issues.  And so, having dined on egg-salad sandwiches and lemonade, we now find ourselves lumbering around the street a few blocks from Mary’s house.

The street is quiet.

Must be all the old people are still at work.

Mary and I sit on the sidewalk and talk about important, life changing issues, like that cute boy Paul Mayasich, whom I am almost in love with.  We find sticks to fling at the bushes and make kazoos out of blades of grass.  The thrilling days of summer wind to an end and we are solemn in our longing for more vacation time.  Suddenly I am struck with a lightning bolt of brilliance, convinced I have found a way to give us both that last boost of adrenaline we will desperately need to start another boring, confining and exhausting school year.

I lead Mary to the middle of the road and sit with her in the street.  It’s a residential street, not a busy highway.  There aren’t six lanes of traffic, or even a Tastee-Freeze at the corner.  It’s just a neighborhood block.  Still, cars come down the street, drivers eager to reach their homes after a long and annoying work day.  But before they arrive home for the night, they encounter us, sitting Indian style in the shade of the trees.

It takes them a minute to notice us…they weren’t really expecting anything out of the ordinary, and we are in the shade after all.  They slow down, of course, these aren’t homicidal maniacs here – just average working class folk, on their way home and irritated at two stupid children playing in the middle of the street.  But they slow down, instead of mowing us over, and honk their horns with a stern, scolding look that tells me they have children of their own.

Slowly, with great effort and much drama, Mary and I get up off the asphalt.  We look them dead in the eyes.  We let our jaws drop slack, and roll our eyes in the back of our heads.  We flail our arms and make strange gargling noises, heads lolling around like they are not at all attached in any way.  We lumber toward the cars with our outstretched arms, our intentions unclear, but perhaps an afternoon snack is on the agenda.

And one after the other, each driver looks at us with wide, unbelieving eyes.  You might think they are just shaking their heads, rolling their eyes because we are stupid kids being stupid kids.  Personally, I think they are fear stricken and headed home in terror, because they have quietly wet themselves in the car.  Another successful Zombie attack to write down in my diary…

Accidental Happiness ~ the meaning of the Ghost Girl

Well today has been terribly interesting, and it’s only 8:30 am!

I’ve gone through a lot this morning, and I suppose I’ll start at the conclusion and work backwards:  I am a ghost.

Facebook is many things, but for me right now it has been validity.  I’ve had a number of people over the past year get in touch with me, and tell me how much I mean to them, and reach out to re-establish a friendship.  This has been wonderful and made me feel loved.

And confused.

I realize that having my situation – for those of you new to the Denelle-Experience, I have DID/MPD/aka: multiple personality disorder – might be difficult for people to deal with.  I have been very fortunate that the good majority of people I have come out to have been unphased by my declaration of insanity and have embraced me as the same old me I was yesterday, before they knew I was crazy.  But there is always that fringe element; the people who curl up their lips in distaste, the people who think I’m trying to be “special”, or the people who say “let me process that and I’ll get back to you” and then don’t get back to you.  But as I’ve said, I’ve been lucky most of the time.  And especially fortunate for these people that have come back into my life and said “I don’t care.  Have what you want, I still love you”.

And that’s the issue at hand for me;  grappling with this idea that people can love me regardless of my wonky eyebrows, or my love handles, or any of my other oddities.  Not because I think I am not lovable, but because I have trained myself to be invisible.

They say you establish your personality by the time you are five, and today my sister helped me understand why I so often feel like I’m invisble, or feel unloved even when people love me very much.   It’s because I trained myself to be a ghost.  Messages from my surroundings and actions from others bombarded me in my childhood, feeding me information that told me I was disposable, invisible, or ethereal.  Here are a few of those things:

my father left me in the mountains when i was 3 or 4.     my mother sent me away to Mexico when i was 8, without telling me why or if i would be coming back home.     i used to hear a song a lot as a kid that talked about Jesus, and how it’s too late for you, he left without you and “you’ve been left behind”.      my mother sent me to live with my godparents when i was having nervous breakdowns and was suicidal.     my uncle tried to kill me with an axe.      my mom used to leave us occassionally, when she’d had too much of our family, and i never knew if she would come back, which made me feel unimportant, and somehow invisible.     my father abandoned my family to go to another country and help them in a crises, meanwhile leaving us with no money, food or heat in the house.      i was missing in my sixth grade class picture-the year i started feeling strong and powerful and my own person-and there i was NO ONE and INVISIBLE not standing next to my best friend Mary, because i was mysteriously missing.  a ghost of a person, and it’s hard to take pictures of a ghost.        i lost my 7th grade year book full of signatures of all my friends that remembered me, had fun with me….almost as though that year never happened.

For a normal sane individual these things might not make you think you are a ghost.  You would say something like “shit, i hate it when i lose something” or “who keeps old yearbooks?”   For me, this is life.  My life.  This is how it has been for me since the dawn of my time; I seem to evaporate until no memory of me is left, and I was never there to begin with.  Sort of like the movie “The Butterfly Effect” which I won’t even link to because it upset me so much.

I have struggled with feeling like I had no particular place in life, in this world.  Detached.  Dissociated.  But my sis sort of brought that into perspective this morning, when I fretted about friends who loved or didn’t love or remember me.  We came to the conclusion that I am ghostly, and have ghostly work to do.  I have work to do between the worlds, between the realms of the living and dead, between the realities of possible and imagination, which to me are the same damn thing.  It’s become clear that all the things that happened in my formative years instructed me to be a ghost;  and so I must have been training myself in this field for some phantomly lifetime purpose. 

Either that or I’m just not very memorable.   I’ll stick with the ghost-mission.

accidental happiness: I LOVE YOU TONY!!!

a big thank you to my dear friend Tony, who just showed me an amazing amount of love and encouragement.  i just came out to him as a multiple, and his first reaction wasn’t awkwardness or the icky face.  and he didn’t do what another friend did to me recently, which was to say “let me process this and i’ll get back to you” and then i haven’t heard from them since.

i’ve told a number of people now, about my diagnosis, and the reactions are all different.  but surprisingly, not many people have straight up shunned me.  but Tony was i think the first to just jump into the deep end and start asking questions: when was i diagnosed, how many of me are there, do they all have names, or something like that.  and all really good questions, which makes me wonder: why are you working with computers, when you have a really obvious knack for dealing with crazy people?

when dealing with old wounds and injuries, prying them open to expose to the public on a blog is cathartic, therapeutic, if not a little strange.  but it’s freeing in it’s anononymity.  opening up these issues to family and friends is more dangerous.  there is a greater degree of rejection immediately at hand.  will my family still love me?  will my friends accept me?  who can handle the truth, and who will run from this information?

well, Tony, whom i’ve known since i was maybe 10 or so, was supportive, loving, and interested in my story.  and i can’t ask for more from a friend.

all in all, a good day

i am not a coke-head

ok, let me clarify.  actually i AM severly addicted to Coca~Cola – liquid of the gods!  but i do not do cocaine.

we are having this conversation because a co-worker the other day suspected me of cocaine useage.   a rather creepy person came into the ‘shop’ and freaked me out a bit, and i got pretty hyper and bouncy afterwards.  it’s a sort of manic phase i go into when confronted with serial child abductors or murderers and their ilk.  so i was bouncing around, trying to deflect my “ewwww” factor, and my co-worker looked at me funny.

as if he had the right!  he’s from Alabama, accosting Michigan ears with his cute twangy drawl.  (i’m from LA…the Michigan accent is very VERY different from both)  anyway, i suffer from allergies and was wiggling my nose alot that day, so combined with my hyperactivity, he was fairly convinced i was a coke-head.  i tried to straighten it all out, and told him no, i’m really just crazy instead, and i think we got it cleared up.

but i thought i’d put it on the record…opiate addictions?  certainly.  alcohol?  yes please.   cocaine?  not at all…

accidental happiness: poncho

so those of you who have been reading my post may already know about “Poncho”.

when i walk in the mornings Poncho is in the first park i come to.

when Poncho was first planted, i was worried he wouldn’t make it through the winter.  i suppose that was silly, but he looked so small compared to all the other trees in the park, and he was just a baby!  so i sat with him one day and talked to him, and circled him with something, i don’t remember what.  stones?  acorns?  flowers?  i spread something in a circle around him, like Linus puts his blanket around the Christmas tree in the Charlie Brown Christmas episode.

and now he’s the cutest tree ever!  look at those eyes!  how does a tree grow eyes like this?  he looks like one of the characters from the movie 9!!

anyway, i wanted to share his pictures, ‘cause he’s so handsome.

denelle’s top 10 reasons for having sex

 

10. It’s a nice way to keep in touch:

Gosh, with all change in the world today, it seems like sometimes you have to make an extra effort to stay connected with your friends and cohorts. People change jobs, move to different locales, and break up and divorce all the time. No one wants to lose all their hard earned friends. Sex is DEFINITELY one way to keep your friends close!

9. It’s a perfect form of worship:

You say god, I say goddess. You say potato, I say French fries. Whatever or whoever you revere or honor, every great deity needs some worship and acknowledgement. Some appreciate sacrifices and libations as well. For me, the perfect form of worship involves sex. Bodies coming together to celebrate life, the world, the earth, and unity of people. I mean UNITY. So go ahead and sit in your pew with your hymnal if you like. Or, you could try my method of honorific studies, and hop in the sack when you need to pray real loud.

8. It’s a great way to stay warm:

This has been – hands down – the longest winter I’ve ever experienced. Granted, I live in Michigan, so extended winters are to be expected. But come on! Winter hits here in November, and by the end of April, when you are still seeing occasional snowflakes…well a girl gets a bit punchy. And cold! Enter the ever popular sex act. With the cost of life going up, and heating bills that stagger the allotted budgetary demands, a nice romp in the hay is the perfect way to stay warm while you’re waiting for spring to show up.

7. It’s an excellent way to be politically active:

You know the old hippie saying “Make Love, Not War”. If everyone was getting a little more, perhaps we would have less war, less crime, less…I don’t know…pollution? I can’t change the whole world, but I have determined that one way I can at least FEEL like I’m making a difference is SEX! I may not be picketing down at the Capitol, I may not be a part of Green Peace, but I can feel like I’m doing my part in active “not-making-of-war” by participating strenuously in the making-love part of the slogan. Being politically active has never been so fun!

6. It’s a healthy way to deal with anger:

People can be annoying. And irritating. And stoooopid. Some days it’s all you can do to keep from punching people in the kisser. And since you’re already thinking of putting something in someone’s kisser, why not turn to your sweetheart for a grumpy quickie? Venting out your anger in sex can make for a hot, passionate – albeit bruising – affair. So you get a little rug burn, or potentially a black eye. What’s a little pain between friends? Especially when it keeps you from overnight jail accommodations due to assaulting a stranger on the subway.

5. It’s an excellent form of exercise:

I may have accidentally put on a few pounds this winter. Not a lot of pounds. And maybe not even pounds, maybe I’m just more…huggable, less firm. So (as soon as it’s warm enough) I’m headed back to my walking routine. But in the meantime, how’s a girl to burn some extra calories so she can fit into her favorite hot skinny jeans? Yup! Sex to the rescue! Interestingly, in a male/female couple, both partners burn more calories if the woman is on top. And hey, I’m striving to tone up, so I gotta do my duty! Check out this chart for more …

http://calorielab.com/news/2008/02/12/calories-burned-during-sex/

 4. It’s the ideal recreational activity:

Bored? Get real. How can you be bored when there is someone next to you with all those nice body parts! I hate when people tell me they have nothing to do and life’s a bore. Or that they went on vacation and it was a big drag. Give me a break! You’re in Montreal, and your BORED!? Not happening. But ok, let’s say you are…let’s say you’re in Montreal, and there’s nothing to do because the whole city has gone to sleep. Or you’re out camping and it rains the whole time. Or you went to go zip lining and the instructor got sick with Sleeping Tiger Fever. (made that one up) Have some sex. It’s a great activity anytime, and it’s completely portable. You can take it with you to Disneyworld, the Bahamas, and even back yard barbecues. (check with your doctor about skydiving and snorkeling…I can’t be sure about those)

3. It’s helpful for cleaning off surfaces:

Come on, I’m an artist. I’m a writer, a crafter, a hobbyist, a Twilight Zone enthusiast, and a reader. I have too many projects and interests to spend any decent amount of time cleaning my house. Luckily for me, a nice bout of sex on the coffee table can clean off ALL my junk in one glorious swoop! Shove all that stuff on the floor and go at it! Look at that; my coffee table is cleared off! Try my method, it’s sure to be a hit. (granted, you have to pick all the stuff off the floor afterwards, but it’s blissfully easier to put away now!)

2. It’s a great exfoliant:

Seriously! You’ve never thought of that? What an excellent way to rejuvenate yourself, refresh your skin, and give yourself that “glow” of health. Sex is THE way to healthy skin; all that wonderful friction to slough off dead skin cells. Certainly a more entertaining way to revive your youthful appearance than an old facial mask.

1. It’s fashion forward:

Sex is THE one thing that goes with everything and NEVER goes out of style. All the cool people are doing it, and some of the important people too. Sex goes with food, fashion, music, movies, alcohol, and all sorts of other forms of entertainment. If I really have to give you ten reasons you should be having sex, you clearly haven’t had the right kind.

from the outside looking in…

i’m in the cafe today.  just sitting here thinking, remembering, pondering.  having to pee.

i guess right now in my life  i’m trying to understand how the world works. 

i’m not really used to people seeing me.  seeing the real me.  recently – well, in the past six or eight months, i’ve reconnected with some old friends out of my past.  good old Facebook.  i’ve always been the kind of person that sort of cuts and runs.  i’m friends with someone for  a while, and then i move on. 

not because i don’t like people.  which is sometimes true of me.

not because i don’t want to be close to people.  which is also sometimes true of me.

but because i’ve always assumed i was too much for people.  for everyone.  for someone.

i was too much for my mother growing up.  too much for her to handle, or love in a way that felt love-ish.  i was maybe too loud, or too emotional, or too colorful.  maybe i needed too much, or felt too strongly about life.

so i’m sort of used to hovering out on the edge of the world, and looking in at things from a distant view.  i sort of keep people at a distance, and love them, but don’t ever really let them see the real me. because i know what they’ll see…i know what they’ll discover.  that they can’t handle me.  that’s what has always been true, and what i’ve always believed.

until now.  these old friends have cropped up in my life, and they seem to remember the real me.  it seems they were in touch with this dark side of me i like to pretend no one notices.  this dark child that likes to cut herself, or stay out in the city all night, or tempt the fates to keep her alive.  this girl that has an attitude, and carries herself as though she were a weapon, and not a person.  here i thought i was fooling everyone, i spent all this time trying to look like a normal person, but i guess my dark innards just oozed out anyway.

which is awesome.  because these people still seem to want to be my friends.  and now i’m kind of thinking, hey, maybe i don’t always have to be on the outside looking in.  maybe i can actually just be me for a change, and maybe, just maybe there are people out there that can actually handle me.  huh.  that’s a novelty.