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wouldn't it be nice ah, for some reason watching Heinlien's The Puppet Masters has brought an old Beach Boys song to mind... and remembering being fifteen and singing along with the oldies station
then we wouldn't have to wait so long wouldn't it be nice to live together in a place that we could call our own at the time, older meant seventeen, eighteen... when I transcended my cranial capacitators I could write in an old person mode and see life from both sides now, but even then it was fantasy, made up story, for my experiences were limited to childhood, albiet a somewhat unique childhood as I was alone (without unconditional loving biological family) and on my own (latch-key, cooking, virtually no supervision whatsoever) from an early age (about 6, though I was on my own from three about 11 hours a day in nursery school)... 20 seemed old, 25 seemed really old... somewhere along the way age became as meaningless as it was to me when I was in nursery school... back then, the bigger people who thought they had all the power tried to control everything, tried to convince me that there were right and wrong ways to thing and feel and do everything and no matter what I thought or felt, I was expected to think and feel like them... most of the kids went along... I didn't and at first they really became upset and tried invasive techniques to convince me to conform... I learned to pretend... I learned that what they did not know was what I was thinking and feeling... they only knew what I told them and what they could infer from my actions... I learned to act... I did not want to lie, that did not feel good... so I said very little and learned to act like them, my actions conformed, so they left me alone and I guess they believed I thought and felt as they did... but the way they spoke of their thoughts and feelings did not related to what I thought and felt... they seemed to be settling for thoughts that ended and feelings that, to me, felt very shallow and without much identity... but that is the nature of conformity, to give up identity for a sense of belonging, even if you lose the depths within yourself that make you who you are in the belonging... I began to feel lonelier and lonelier within myself as years passed... by the time I reached puberty I was thinking and feeling things that my peers laughed at (or just brushed off as weird or crazy or whatever made them feel better about not understanding me, or not wanting to)... no matter how successfully shallow one becomes to conform to the norms of human society, I want to believe that somewhere deep inside they hav some sense, even if it is subconscious, that they are missing out on something vitally important... who they are... now I've wandered through this life for a few decades since I first sang that Beach Boys song and a lot of the journey wasn't all that nice... some times life, or someone, was downright cruel... what I've learned is what I knew when I was in nursery school is still the only truth that remains constant... that nobody knows what another thinks or feels, and no matter what they say or do, you still don't know for sure... and so far everyone I've met only wants to think or feel just enough to belong to the culture, to be part of the hive... and I wonder if anyone is willing to suffer experiencing the isolation of not giving up the self for the hive... that's what I'm looking for in this life above all else, someone who did not buy into the roles they were told to play... someone who found a way to fool all the big people into believing they were conforming just fine, that they were ok and not thinking or feeling any thing that did not fit the mold... and yet they never left their depths and the infinite individuality of themselves behind... alone, yes we are... but I'd rather know the utter separation of real loneliness and share a whole individual who thinks and feels from their own depths, than feel loses lonely because I gave up the depths of individuality and conformed to the social norms... as the years pass, times seems to swallow people who, fear eats away at individuality and free thought, the blind desire to share gives the loneliness an ache that can not be explained, but that lead many to choose between conformity or death... and yet, what is death... giving up life, or giving up self, or both... liberty or death?... now I look around and find people do not see each other... do not act as though they feel each other, perhaps they do not feel themselves... do not appear to think for themselves... and when asked to, they find excuses or become somehow defensive, even offended... as if the decision making process is beyond their grasp, put off into some corner of their mind they no longer access... and gone with it is the excitement, the sponteneity, the individuality of life and uniqueness of each moment...sitting here watching the wheels go round and round... I don't always love to watch them roll... still, as the world goes to bed and I wake and wander through it, I hear myself gentle humming, occasionally singing...
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I love you all for coming... for reading all these words for every click feels like more love (I know that sounds absurd) if I could only tell you... one thing more tonight I'd say I wish you could come home with me and be my friends for life |