Today Amber and I were in the freshly swept (and dusty as springfield) basement, sorting through the last of the boxes. Of past hopes and dreams. aka the baggage of a family torn apart. aka the memorabilia of a circus family. aka the shit we frantically shoved into boxes, 15-10 years ago when company was coming over, that we never got around to sorting. aka the boxes of notes we thought might be required in a legal case, when and if they ever recover that body we found on the road in '76.
The results of expedition Clean Up Frikkin' Unordered Never-will-be-looked-at-again Boxes of Infinity in Finite Basement Area: six large emptied boxes; a million organized boxes mainly consisting of (and this was unexpected) Christmas decorations and baby clothes; four big black garbage bags full of stuff to throw away; and two cases of asthma. Woohoo! Mom will be happy now that she has more room to store more crapola. Amber did most of the sorting while I played with Bjorn and read through old papers from my days of innocence: letters to Santa, drawings, report cards filled with praise, a crumpled report card wherein a teacher had awarded me a "B" for effort, that Bitch. (At the time, I was traumatized. I locked myself in the bathroom and considered suicide, then thought it through, and concluded that by simply not showing the report card to my mother and by refusing to discuss grade details with classmates, all my worries of failure and inherent worthlessness would miraculously cease to exist! Alas, Damn these days of computerized records! Damn computers with their culture of redundancy and back-up systems! Bless and damn administrative incompetence, depending upon whether or not the incompetence is in my favour....!)
While going through more boxes, I re-found one of the shark teeth that I'd found at Venice Beach in Florida when I was 10. I handed the tooth to Bjorn.
Bjorn: "Is this a REAL shark tooth?!"
Me: "Yep."
Bjorn, clearly disgusted and a little intrigued: *gasp* - "Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww!" *as he put it into his mouth.*
Hmmm, yeah. That about sums up the theme of my life: 'Wow, that seems weird and vile! I must put it in me. Rather, I must have it in me already. I must be vile, now. I mean, nevermind.'
Yes, don't read meaning into that; my fertile mind is filtering all thoughts and experiences through a kinky glass this evening. Today, I went to an Adult Store with my mother. Okay, Canadian Tire, but they don't exactly sell children's toys there, now do they? Or maybe they do. I used to play with WD-40, sooo.... But then later today I did indeed venture into an Adult Store, with my sister ("Aren't We Naughty?" -- that's the store, not my proud rhetoric) so that she could purchase stuff for her 'friend': Handcuffs. Questionable lip balm. Edible body powder. I saw some cool things in there. Yes, I provide a service with this blog; I'm always keeping my eyes open for life-enhancing ideas to share with my 'friends'. I felt funny in a bad way, standing in the store with my sister, in front of the strap-on section. (I will burn in hell for that one. I almost wrote that, "I will punish myself severely for joking about such things," then re-membered that to punish oneself is self-abuse, and on and on with the you-film-muffins. There's no escaping the gutter. This is just getting worse and worse.)
Please enjoy the reversion to thoughts of a repressed 12-year-old while this lasts.
Did I ever really NOT live here? Strange. My life's history seems a daydream from the moment I left here those years ago until the moment I returned.
I love my family. How can anyone ever hurt another person, knowing that every person was once a child.. still is....
It's late at night and I'm feeling and feeding the emotion. Of a 12-year-old. It's fun. =D
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