Cindi Jones, Author of Squirrel Cage

Sunday, August 05, 2012

A piece of my past.

When I moved to California, I left my past behind. Many people in early adulthood move on and leave their families for many reasons. I can't tell you how many people I've met who've cut their ties with their past. Recently, a childhood classmate contacted me. She's one of the few people I actually remember a first and last name! Yes there's the Judy <an Italian name but I can't recall>. Oh, there was a lovely <what was her first name> Cowley. A talented girl and I used to shoot hoops together. We called her George. There was Shawn <something... he always got beat up because he carried a few extra pounds>. Oh and there was a kid named Mousey <something>. Of course, Mousey wasn't his real name.

Each of my classmates helped shaped my life in some way. With them, I learned hopscotch, shooting marbles, and basketball. They taught me what I didn't know, too. Some shamed me when I acknowledged I didn't know about sex. I came home with a few bruises and a bloody nose because I didn't know how to fight. With all, I learned to compete in a small way. I had a hard time with reading. Spelling was the bane of my existence. I remember standing in front of the class staring at a fraction and not knowing what to do. But with my 'mates', I picked up little things here and there. I have always learned from example. I tell everyone that I like to hang out with smart people because I hope some of it will rub off on me. My mates helped me out. I admit that I never would have learned spelling, writing, reading, calculus, physics, etc. without them.

So long ago, so far away, in a different life, I learned how to learn. Childhood friends provided needed social interaction. I don't want to go back. But I must acknowledge their positive influence in my wonderful life. They helped shape me and make me a better person. I am very fortunate to have known them.

I don't have my old yearbooks. I have nothing from that period of my life where I can look up old acquaintances. It's really a nice feeling to know that the world is still small, that I'm still part of a larger family, and that old friends may become new friends. My life's lessons have taught me there is no greater gift than the love of family and good friends.

And to my old mate who extended a hand of friendship, I give you my heart felt thanks. You made my day.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

I wanted to be a girl.

Someone asked me recently what it felt like... to be so dysphoric. She asked me about all the standard qeustions. You know... the sorts of things that can take up a whole book. I wrote the following... thing. I called it:

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I wanted to be a girl

I wanted to be a girl. It was a nevere ending trainwreck of self-depricative thought. It consumed every moment of every day. From my earliest recollections, it was thus.

I wanted to be a girl. Image, love, mysterious, advertising, beautiful. female, mother, girl, daughter.

I wanted to be a girl. Growing, hating, despicable, learning, self-image, destruction, despair, nightmares.

I wanted to be a girl. Clothing, hair, toys, games, boys, sewing, not me.

I wanted to be a girl. Feminine, atrractive, desire, love, soft, loving.

I wanted to be a girl. Her, girlfriend, confidant, bright, wife, betrayal.

I wanted to be a girl. Son, offspring, family, love, betrayed.

I wanted to be a girl. Drumming, thrumming, beating, throbbing. Every thought. Every moment. Every day.

I wanted to be a girl. Spoiled, damnation, rejection, hate, spite, excommunication, disowned, abandoned.

I wanted to be a girl. Enlightenment, practice, living, trying, homage, emulation, copy.

I wanted to be a girl. Employment, low pay, debt, clothes, men, disgusting, discrimination.

I wanted to be a girl. Acceptance, space, free, surgery, friends, salary, food.

I am a girl. Bills, real, cooking, TV, husband, children, clubs, social, smiles, dreams, life.

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Hopefully, it captures a range of emotions, time, and all the other detritus we deal with.

Cindi