Dumbo…

There was a home video of me during a field trip to the park in Downtown Benecia, California. I was maybe six or seven years old and really, had a lot of friends yet something always held me back. Years later I was watching this video and am still haunted by what I saw. I was seen sitting at the picnic table sitting quietly while all the other kids were playing tag or Frisbee or whatever was going on. Toby Marx had come up to me trying to get me to go out and play and I shrugged him off like he was bothering me. He moved on and I continued to sit there looking all sad and shit. For the life of me I can’t remember those days.

What I do remember from being a kid is that I always wanted to have fun and socialize. Something always stopped me. It was like I was a dog, habitually beaten, for doing what was only natural. I was scared to act the way I felt about things. Worried about judgment and guilt for mistakes I would inevitably make. I tried to live my life perfect. It wasn’t me.

Because of my general character I wasn’t Mr. Popular by any means, but I definitely had a knack for making friends and intermingling with other kids. Even in the video I watched of myself, I was still invited to be a part of the ‘party’ even though I was mopey and depressed-like most of the time.

Damn Me.

Years later I find how things come around full circle. I thrive on social interaction and human contact. I’m an extremely intimate person but find myself unconsciously driving people away because of a fear that I still can’t quite come to terms with yet. I remember being teased by my own parents about a girl I liked named Marie. She had huge ears apparently. For being in the third grade I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever see in my life. I grew to figure that whatever I liked wasn’t up to acceptable standards. Chelby was the same way. We were best friends but the excessive ridicule about my taste in girls at such a young age tainted things a bit. I find myself fighting hard against what I find beautiful and what I ‘think’ others do.

I’ve been stuck. Not just with girls, I find that whatever I’m attracted to is what I have the most difficulty standing up to. It’s taken me too many damn years to finally become a pilot. It’s not what I was ‘rasied’ to do but I could care less at this point. Turning down the appointment to the Naval Academy just about broke the heart of most the family. Though I chose to do the anti-‘thing’ with my life, it felt good to decide something for myself. Now if only I knew what the hell I really want to do.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes and I’ve hurt a good number of people. I am indebted in so many ways that this lifetime won’t be long enough to really make things right. Forgiveness is the path to redemption but sometimes it’s just plain stupid to give someone another bullet after they once again tried to shoot you down. I’ve forgiven people for things that have happened to me and that is all. I expect the same from others. I have to try and move on and find something better. I’ll never get a re-do of this life so what’s the point of repeating the same cycle over and over again? It’s like staying with a cheating or abusive spouse. Just plain stupid.

For anyone that makes it all the way through one of these ‘childhood issue’ blogs, I commend you. No one really cares that much about my life. I say again, these are really stepping stones for me to get to a form of writing that I’m striving for. If anyone can take something from these stories of mine, it would be to look honestly about yourself and how you became what you did. Do you like it? Would you change it if you could? If you want to change but you can’t maybe it would be in good order to be absolutely honest… If not to the world, to yourself…

20130410-221603.jpg

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s