August 07, 2006 - 1:36
I don't really want to be with me lately, I'm not finding much to latch on to.
The other day, a conversation ended with a boy asking me:
"Why are you scowling..."
It's hard to say. I can scowl when I'm confused, annoyed, concentrated, or even interested. Sometimes I'm aware of it, mostly I'm not.
But if it's only my furrowed brow that's setting you off, you should know it lost it's relevance somewhere between 3rd grade and now, when it established itself as merely a resting pose. I don't really know how to hold my face, if not that way. Or where to hold my jaw if it's not slightly clenched.
My body language though, has always been too strong, and a struggle for me internally and interpersonally. If I could remember when I decided (some of my long standing traits were decisions) to totally expose myself with a stance or stare, I might be able to undo it. But I don't remember developing it. It's just always been there, and wasn't even a cognitive issue for me until my crusading elementary school principal pointed it out.
Anyways, it wouldn't even be that problematic if it weren't combined with a sometimes dramatic sensitivity.
These early and long cycles find me begrudging my sex.
I'll never stop bleeding until I start becoming uncontrollably hot in flashes, and dominated by psychotic hormones. After that's over, i'll be unmoved and sexless, but at least no blood. And hey, it's pretty cool being an animal who has the capacity to complain about the futile facts of animal life. It gets things done.
I like people with good posture, as if they're walking with a string pulled taut through their entire body and out the top of their head. I like the noises they make, like a boar rooting around, or a poor little owl.
Admitting any certain devotion feels like asking to become stale.
I fret over the shelf-life of my life in the lives of others.