Memories

One of the nice things about being a 70 something woman is that you should have a lot of memories.  And the weirder and more screwed up your early years were the more memories you will have.  I sometimes wonder about (and envy) women who met "Mr Right" at 18 years old, married him, had their 2.4 children, raised said children, went to work at some good paying job that was fulfulling, paid the mortgage off with the help of "Mr. Right".  Enjoyed their middle years, married off their 2.4 children, retired with "Mr. Right" and eventually ended up in a nursing home, of course with the aforementioned Mr Right, died and were buried in ajoining plots.............The End.  The other part of me, the real part, screams NOOOO at the very idea.  There is something very scary about being that woman.

This may explain why I understood so well schitzophrenic people, particularly females with that disorder.  There has to a very divided part of me, because one part of me yearns for the security of that woman, and the other parts feels a great sorrow and sense of loss for her.  Lets see.....she never really has to struggle, she never feels lost and has to find her own way..........thats good isn't it???  So why are part of my senses flailing against the idea??  I don't think life should be, can be that orderly.  Sometimes it is good when an explosion of some kind shakes your world apart and you find everything you thought was firmly in place, carved in stone and firmly cemented is really set on a fault line and nothing is as you thought it was and never will be again.  It is then that you are shaken out of your complacency, it is then when you find out what you really are capable of, what you really can do; And it is then that memories are created.  These memories of the uprooted you, the surviving you are the memories that are in my head right now.  Hopefully later today I will write more on what I consider this phenonium, this time when your most primal self realizes herself.

Tuesday February 1, 2011.............1:42 p.m.