I feel my sanity slipping away. It is either that or I have become more objective in my self-observations. I have no idea why, when I turn on the light and it does not work, I flick the switch off and on several times as if there is a possibility that I have done it wrong or that maybe if I do it in a certain way, the light will come on. I like to think I am an enthusiastic optimist and refuse to surrender to "no can do" in any form.
Ya, let's go with that.
The most annoying thing though, is that the voice inside my head that is laughing at me, is that of my mother's. When did I record that, to carry with me through the rest of my life? When I packed my things to leave home, who put the tape recorder in??
Do we ever escape our childhood? Family can be like a giant octopus that is forever reaching for us to pull us back into the total dynamics of the past.
I phoned my brother the other day and it was like we were transported right back in a nanosecond. We both assumed our roles and carried on accordingly.
Basically I called and his wife answered and I asked for him.
"Is Biff there?"
"No, sorry, can I take a message?"
"I could call back, is there a good time to call him?"
"Can I ask who is calling?"
The voice dropped immediately. "Oh." Like she had just stepped in dog crap and realized she was talking to Satan, both at the same time. "He should be in for supper in about an hour," said like she resented having to make the extra effort to breathe more just to speak them.
"OK, thanks, I will call back then."
S I L E N C E ….
Although I usually take advantage of prolonged silence to relax and meditate, or to hunt for my sanity, I decided to forgo it this time. I tucked my yoga leotard back down into my purse, "Alright then, thanks, see you, bye."
Is it possible that the dead can speak words? Because I swear her voice was stone cold dead. Not that we were ever best friends or that she ever indicated that she was happy that I was alive and infringing on her air space, but I could tell there was a human being behind the tone of her voice. Had she died and no-one had told me? My brother did love to stuff his prey … he had bears and wolves all over the house. Nothing says "w3elcome, isn't this homey?" like a bear standing on its hind legs, mouth open in a roar, teeth barred, claws raised.
When I called back about an hour and 45 minutes later, my brother pretended not to know who was calling. "Who is this?"
I was calling from Austalia. I had not talked to him in 3 - 4 years. I could be 503 and not have heard his voice for centuries and I would instantly know it was him if he called me, but then I pay attention to life, even annoying life. He clearly blocked it out. Well, me, anyway.
It's amazing how it takes a nanosecond to be transported right back to your childhood, complete with all the sense memory and the desires. I had forgotten how much I often wanted to punch him. I wandered the house, phone stuck to my ear, searching for a pillow I could strangle.
There is a reason we never speak.
I said some stuff, he said some stuff, I don't think either of us made any sense or carried any kind of intelligent thread. We were just throwing words into the ether waiting for enough time to pass so we could politely disengage ourselves from this embarrassing whatever it was and get back to our lives, pretending this had never happened.
We hung up.
I went out to the light switch and stood flicking it off and on until I felt better. Even though the light never came on. it helped me feel normal again. There was no light. I knew how to fix that. I could unscrew the lightbulb. I had money. I could buy a new one.
I am pretty awesome.
And then I had a long bath in bleach.
SKIN: ^^Swallow^^ Sarah 08
HAIR: [ Love Soul ] Hair*107*White Blonde
EYES: Egozy.Eyes Intense
LASHES: Essences Perla
MAKE-UP: EYESHADOW - #adored - last night - smoke pack
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