Echo

He knows it won’t.
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He’s drinking because he hopes as the night progresses the situation will get better.
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I am sitting here watching a guy who looks like Curtis, just 2 years older and bored out of his mind with these idiotic girls he’s with.
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Remember Beau? I do. His unconsciousness was mindblowing.
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I was definitely on the path of no good as a kid. Deliciously no good. Probably still am.
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The right guy can still be the wrong guy, just years too early and out of place.
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When I wrote my 5 year-old sex fiend post, I thought about all the boys who were in my circle back in the day all letting out a collective disappointed groan, wherever they all are in this world. What coulda been…
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You and me are the unifying principle of the universe.
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A girl like me will think you’re a better guy than you really want to be. And that was always why it was better we didn’t even take the first step.
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The wrong guy can still be the right guy, just years too early and in the wrong place.
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The first time I hung out with Curtis. I saw him orbiting closer and closer, testing out different distances. When I noticed he was suddenly sitting on my couch and I couldn’t remember how long he’d been there, and realized if I leaned back he would be within a personal space distance too close to ignore, I decided I needed to leave. He said he had no intentions of trying anything but from my perspective, his intentions followed a straight line with a clear motivation. But he says it wasn’t in his mind.

So then, like right now. The guy in the bar sitting next to me. I haven’t directly caught him watching me, but I know he is because he’s mirroring me. I keep my eyes off him. Pick up my drink, he picks up his. I lean back, he leans back. And we have yet to make eye contact. A few minutes ago, he leaned against the bar to order a drink. His hand rested against mine. I moved my arm. He quickly moved his hand. So if I looked him in the eye suddenly and asked him if he is trying to get my attention, he would be shocked and say no? Or is he completely unconscious of his body carrying out the intentions of his will?

I think I tend to interact with people’s shadows, their unconscious being. Maybe that’s why I see things they communicate that they seem oblivious of (or perhaps they’re not willing to admit), and I have these experiences with people where I have conversations that they don’t remember or don’t own up to. Or maybe the part of these people that reach out for me is a completely different consciousness within the person. Either way, whether or not people admit it or remember, I don’t enter any life unless they drew me into it. I don’t go anywhere I wasn’t first wanted.

League starts on Tues so I asked PT to evaluate me to clear me for basketball. I got cleared for everything basketball not involving contact. So I was at the gym minding my own business when my ball bounced slowly towards this red-haired woman stretching next to the court. Out of courtesy I yelled “Heads up.” She took one look at my ball and then kicked it to the other side of the court. Mind you, she’s a woman in her 40’s. I glared at her in disbelief and she continued her exercises. I let go of the urge to call her a fucking cunt.

The sales manager happened to be there so I went over to tattle, saying I just got a taste of Pacific Northwest hospitality. His response? At least you’re not in New York. Then this guy playing half court crashed into my shoulder. It was terrifying but I survived. Guess contact is okay.
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I draw the line when men start alluding to their penis.
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Was gonna bring my ipod to play in the car, but then I remembered how Toto’s Africa came on in the car last time and how awesome that was, so I wanted to trust the randomness of the radio. As soon as I got in Africa started playing. That was cool. Followed by Jay-Z’s “can I hit it in the morning without giving you half of my dough,” followed by Death Cab’s “Cath.” Can you imagine that? Magnetic music day.
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In my early 20’s, I knew I had an option, a possibility, to get married in 2006. Just something I knew, but I knew it was an option. Sure enough, it came and passed, and I didn’t latch on to it.

What people don’t know is I have my commitment day in my calendar. Not something I aspire to and hope for, but something I saw. If it comes to pass, it will let Future Julia know that she is indeed stronger at seeing and should further trust her instincts. If nothing happens, it was just a training exercise, part of the big picture of getting myself stronger.

But there is another date that should be kept an eye on.

February 29th, 2012

It is the tail of February 29th, 2008

Without endings there are no beginnings.
With every beginning comes an ending.
Except with ouroboros, then it is the reality that transcends time and space. As all beginnings and endings are one and the same, on a day that doesn’t exist.

This will also be a 9 day. 9 days are home days for me. My journey began on Leap Day 2008. Leap Day 2012 will be the day of completion. The end of a 4 year cycle. I thought of a bridge and I thought of drowning. I remembered this post.

We shall see.

Yesterday when I was listening to David Gray’s Flame Turns Blue on Youtube, I read the poster’s description for the clip and found it interesting:

The Greeks had theories about the four elements: Earth, Air, Water, Fire. In these theories they eventually tried to also come upon theories of the unifying element, the element, or thing, that everything was made of. One of these theories was about the exact place in a flame where it turned blue, that exact place was where the unifying element in the universe ‘lived’ for lack of a better word. I wonder if David knew about this, and hence this song’s title and theme, maybe not. We now explore String Theory, and M Theory, looking for the very same unifying element, thing, to the universe.

Laughing with your pretty mouth
Laughing with your broken eyes
Laughing with your lover’s tongue
In a lullaby

I Was a 5 Year-Old Sex Fiend

I admit it. Spring bloomed early in the head of 5 year-old Pei-hua, then known as SHIH PEIHUA!! in a very angry and disappointed voice if she was being particularly devious. Surrounded in life by boys, boys and more boys, she was more or less, raised by wolves. As all wolves are inherently divided into alphas or betas, she was born knowing she wasn’t gonna be no beta. She wasn’t gonna be anyone’s anything. At some point, the boys of the pack became aware that she wasn’t a…”boy.” It was a slow awareness that passed through the group, but the ones that were hooked were hooked. I could get them to do what I wanted. Show me your new toy. Trade me your sandwich. Let me cut off your eyebrows. Let’s jump on my mom and dad’s bed and pull down our pants flashing each other. Yeah. I was that little girl. Every father’s greatest nightmare, every little boy’s legend. I’m convinced to this day that my best friend from 1st grade became a neurosurgeon because of the trauma I inflicted on him with the game Bee Hospital–I would stomp on bees and he had to bring them back to life. I still remember him so frustratedly reporting, “They seem to keep dying!”

I have often wondered if a father can look at a daughter, at the person she’s developing into, at her interactions with other kids, in particular, boys…and just…know. I loved my boys and my boys loved me. I was a sunny leader, occasionally tyrannical but not for arbitrary reasons, but mesmerizingly curious and daring; they followed me, sometimes to the point of senselessness, like a discovery. Even in a 5 year-old, a father can recognize the workings of seduction. Maybe he could just tell which ones I’d already seen naked.

Mothers knew right away their sons were giving up too much to me. I remember one in particular who didn’t take kindly to her son–my most loyal man–intensely and dedicatedly serving as my guard dog at my feet. In my personal play time, my GI Joe’s were already having elaborate storylines that involved sex, repressed gay longing and the occasional gang rape by bad, romantic lovemaking by good. I don’t think I really knew what sex entailed outside of an outletting of passionate energy. And then, by 8, I discovered a stash of my dad’s porn.

When I look back, I imagine it was all mounting into a (legendary) disaster. It probably was just a matter of time before I started indoctrinating young boys into the realm of the sensual and sexual, a child’s powerful imagination dedicated to the heights of connection and love. It would have been reckless. But amazing. There could have even been a community meeting. I was probably a scandal waiting to happen. The bounds of my curiosity exceeded my age and this became an awkward problem, solved by moving to a more isolated house in another city, and enrolling me first in Christian School where people regarded me as an alien who’d fallen out of the sky, and then public school, which made me quickly forget my past life and the worlds I’d explored.

In so many ways my dad probably thinks I’m sluttier than I am. There were so many incidents throughout the years where it could be construed that I was messing around, from always running off with blackjack dealers until 4 in the morning whenever we vacationed in a casino, or male friends I’ve brought home to stay for a weekend who really were just friends. I never slept with any of them. But what’s it like, for a dad to know his daughter has this hunger, and the power of attraction to feed it, who watched it grow inside her from the earliest moments of her consciousness?

You tell her you can read her mind. Make her fearful of subversive thoughts.

You account for her time, keeping her busy with many structured activities.

You isolate her, so her means to interact outside structured settings is limited or monitored.

You keep her very physically active.

You scare her senseless about serial killers, and boys and men who hurt you when you’re alone with them. Make the inside of your house scary, the outside scarier.

It worked. I was good. But my mind was filthy. You can never keep a good woman down, just underground.

Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t had that sudden switch of realities just before I turned 9. Probably a leader of some gang and a former prom queen. But it’s good, too. My feelings about sex are somewhat repressed and private, but it makes me cautious and it’s made my romantic world a lot more colorful and dedicated. I spent a long time waiting for something worthy. And I did avert any 8 year-old sex scandals.

I am a hard worker who is very lazy.

From my blue world, I look at Fremont, and I see its red dust from here.

Ask me about my shirts. Get a different response. Does it matter what it means? I am a walking fortune cookie. She is a disappearing act. We never know what it means.

To my left sits El Caido and to my right the Pied Piper. We laugh about the myth of men. Such bad children since they stopped believing in mothers.

As beasts we eat petty creatures, but never innocence.

As Gods, we move planets through viscous sea.

In hearts, we exist as the seed of memory.

And we say, Find me. Believe I’m real…if you dare.