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adrienmundiDoubt is my least favorite, and most common, visitor. It's rarely rational, but that makes it harder to exile, not easier; I can reason passably well, but irrationality is harder to deal with.
The theoretical undertaking of some time past is becoming actual; as things progress (assuming that they do) this actuality will become noticeable actuality. Is this what I want? I am not certain, at this moment. 'Yes', is the most immediate answer, but that has the feeling of the mental equivalent of muscle memory; when "that" happens, "this" is the response. Doubt comes in two forms, today: the more I move toward undeniable externalization of what I intend, the more odious perceived lack in me feels; the more visibly other I become, I worry that I will necessarily become more alienated from social contact (which I can admit that I crave and need).
Latter first (the theoretical is easier than the actual): it isn't that I doubt that those dear to me would be abandoning, but rather, that my manifestation of dissatisfaction with the binary choices presented me might lead to the choice for them of "hanging out with A and being called into doubt by others" or "not hanging out with A so that social interactions aren't hindered". I can admit that it looks very silly, to see that written out. And yet... in general, if one makes manifest differences that are meant to be either/or, or at best, exit from/entry to, with no Perry-like intent to find said poles, how can interaction not suffer?
It appeals to my incredulous vanity to be found attractive (the tiny one has always claimed to do so, but is most often exempted from the rolls because she is, in fact, so exemplary). While not necessarily what I want or desire, to be attractive in the way I suspect others mean when the label is laid, it is some form of nourishment; I am afraid of losing that, also. The label "freak" hangs just out of reach, ever in the future, when and where I least expect it. That I sometimes apply it to myself is a foolish form of training; with enough practice, enough self inflicted wounds, the hope is that wounds inflicted by others will be less hurtful. That, too, looks very silly when written out.
Condensation of meaning: I fear becoming more alienated, both from people in general and those whose kind regard matter most to me; I fear losing whatever tiny entry into the domain of aesthetics I might have, and become a sort of patchwork creature worthy of some pity, but no real regard or delight.
The theoretical undertaking of some time past is becoming actual; as things progress (assuming that they do) this actuality will become noticeable actuality. Is this what I want? I am not certain, at this moment. 'Yes', is the most immediate answer, but that has the feeling of the mental equivalent of muscle memory; when "that" happens, "this" is the response. Doubt comes in two forms, today: the more I move toward undeniable externalization of what I intend, the more odious perceived lack in me feels; the more visibly other I become, I worry that I will necessarily become more alienated from social contact (which I can admit that I crave and need).
Latter first (the theoretical is easier than the actual): it isn't that I doubt that those dear to me would be abandoning, but rather, that my manifestation of dissatisfaction with the binary choices presented me might lead to the choice for them of "hanging out with A and being called into doubt by others" or "not hanging out with A so that social interactions aren't hindered". I can admit that it looks very silly, to see that written out. And yet... in general, if one makes manifest differences that are meant to be either/or, or at best, exit from/entry to, with no Perry-like intent to find said poles, how can interaction not suffer?
It appeals to my incredulous vanity to be found attractive (the tiny one has always claimed to do so, but is most often exempted from the rolls because she is, in fact, so exemplary). While not necessarily what I want or desire, to be attractive in the way I suspect others mean when the label is laid, it is some form of nourishment; I am afraid of losing that, also. The label "freak" hangs just out of reach, ever in the future, when and where I least expect it. That I sometimes apply it to myself is a foolish form of training; with enough practice, enough self inflicted wounds, the hope is that wounds inflicted by others will be less hurtful. That, too, looks very silly when written out.
Condensation of meaning: I fear becoming more alienated, both from people in general and those whose kind regard matter most to me; I fear losing whatever tiny entry into the domain of aesthetics I might have, and become a sort of patchwork creature worthy of some pity, but no real regard or delight.
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no subject
Date: 2002-04-08 08:05 am (UTC)Somewhat so (although still stinging, sometimes) when about my own off-centeredness, views, presentation. Moreso when those "of us" - this statement becomes more and more relevant when viewed through the lens of meine Herz, and through interactions with you, Janiene and others Of Worth.
I'm beginning to see even more things in light of, say, sexual preference, as it's not a binary thing, duh - but as most people fall somewhere along the scale. So with this Other thing - if you can produce (o)thers from (O)thers, you have a relative closeness. There are most certainly those who end up as Not-Us (Pat Robertson comes to mind) but between, say, You (since you seem to place yourself way out on a branch) to J (even if imperfectly, sees enough in you - "freakiness" included - to wish to bind her life to yours) to me (thinly spread pseudo-elitist, but I do desire to understand and bind more than reinforce any divisions and false distinctions) and through people who think it's strange when I talk about death masks at a company lunch (...ahem) to those who think we're all hellbound...and so on. Hi ho.
And just because it's my usual refrain - for yourself, you have love, you have friends, understanding being further developed - and all of these belie the ability/chance for more in the future -
no subject
Date: 2002-04-08 09:55 am (UTC)This sounds like a condiment: a mixed patty of ennui and angst, marinated in bitter regret, covered with thinly spread pseudo-elitist and sandwiched between two slices of charred, blackened bread.
I appreciate the sentiment, very much. Perhaps it is that, realizing I have something of value, I now feel I have something to lose (ironically, I've never felt the implied freedom in "having nothing=having nothing to lose").