4:55 p.m. - 08/14/02
three cheers for the lonely girl.
my computer upstairs sucks even more than the one I'm writing this on, (which Cami and Julie will attest sucks quite a bit) but I'm starting to think more seriously about getting it even more slightly up to snuff. I'm in need of my alone-time, my independence, even when my parents are in the house, and it sucks that in order to journal here, or do other on-line things, I must bear witness to their goings-on...
Cami and Julie can attest to the irritation factor of the downstairs computer because Julie and Cami were here! And as much as that sounds like trite graffiti, it is ever so much lovely and ever so much important. I've already realized today that D!@#$%^ has undergone a transformation during their visit. The minimal "sites" of D!@#$%^, which the poor girls actually perused, now hold memories of said perusal. The highway is decorated with their presence, with the places they stepped and laughed and ran to hug away the pain I must feel living here. They scaled the mountain-hills, breathed the post office air, interrogated the man at the oh-so-residence-like cyber cafe. They slept on my floor (poor poor dearlings), cradled against each other, each complementing the other's lovely hair dye...They woke up and stuck out tongues; they tickled, tackled, scritchified. They talked at speeds that made my parents' heads spin and made my lips remember smiling. They made reference to worlds I thought only I knew of; the modem was their air tank just as it is mine. Somewhere between "off the bean path," "coy!malicious!sweet! girl," and "BITS OF FOOD STILL ON THEM!" I regained my sanity. I developed the "healthy doubt" that Dr. R is so fond of. Healthy doubt: the ability to question that my environment now is all there is...It isn't. With the help of my parents remaining (even partially) insane while they had visitors, I got to see them through outside eyes. I got to see the pain and fear and craziness I *must* also experience living here, and though, like with the Lethargy Syndrome so prominent in the region, I may have built up some resistence, it's not something I ever hope to tolerate. My parents are crazy, and somehow having dearling people here makes that all the more evident, but I'd rather be in a cuddle-pile thinking my parents are crazy than bouncing along with what I think is sanity, alone.
I wish I had better words, but you can't recreate the dimension of girls with words. I can tell you that Julie is more an elfling than even I knew, and Cami is like the ever-so huggable Gothic version of Rory Gilmore (which I absolutely mean as a compliment...) I can tell you that the passion levels rose so high we're *still* being attacked for attacking and humor redefined itself, but you still won't understand how Julie feels on my lap and how thoroughly Cami's fingernails on my neck is a spiritual experience. You still won't understand that among cool-colored short hair and warm-colored braids, even brown mousy-girl hair can feel special if there are fingers running through it...Even broken atoms can collect themselves long enough to feel how deeply runs the love.
And when he asked, after the obligatory pause, how the week had been, and I said poor, up until the past two days, he thought maybe my non-ok friends had taken a turn for the better, and when he said those words he said I suppressed a smile- but I didn't. I just had a mystery, and the mystery-smile is the best one, so I am sure to savor it. He said I lit up as I started to tell him that this sun/mon/tues I woke and slept with girls beside me in my battling...and it reminded him how isolated I normally am, and how normally, how healthily I experience the love.
Lately, they've all been saying that atoms knew love in a way that redefines it for others, and I'm seeing that now. I'm seeing how the contrast of even a moment's touch with my isolation can help me focus on how brilliantly that touch shines, how all that glitter isn't gold. Sometimes, it's a friendly freedom.
It was joy.
chord
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