For All the Dreams I Never Really Had

Posted on

We grow up, supposedly to reach our dreams, to reach to the future. But what are  nearly “universal dreams”and to what end?. But these defined so-called dreams – weddings, making a family – what if you don’t share them? I acknowledge that they are to an extent – or at least the procreation one is necessarily to the preservation of our species but I don’t subscribe to it. But what about something as simple as “having friends”. I have some of these dreams – living in a place I could call home, having a good career and the personal aspects of “the dream”. But I don’t get any of the social ones.

Parents are funny. Their dreams always revolve on “milestones” such as seeing their kid going to school, getting married, having kids of their own and so on. Heck, even driving (which I don’t do either). But there’s one major problem with that assumption: how do you know if the dreams are the same for that person, people. Why do people assume that their dreams are the same as everyone else?

I find it both odd and sad that people automatically assume that one needs friends to be happy. That one needs to adhere to the “dream” of marrying and having kids of their own. Or even hanging out with friends, like any “typical” teenager (which of course I never did).

This is not my dream. Marriage? Kids. Nah. Okay so, maybe that will change (in 4 billion years when the Andromeda crashes into the Milky Way) that way but for now, that is not my dream. At all. And I can’t fathom it either.

Friends. Love. Work. Marriage. Family. Those things are all so deeply foreign to me even though I know that many people are steeped in them. But I am not.

I haven’t had very close friends for nearly 12 years now.  As much as it sounds sad to admit, generally people who hang out with me have to be paid to hang out with me…or at least have at some point. I do not have a social life. I have never had any romantic interest in anyone – I don’t even know what leanings I have….I am possiblyasexual at this point.  I’m not even sure what love is.

But I don’t really need that to be happy. These things are expectations that are products of society. They are not part of me.

My younger days were more “normal” I suppose.  I ran around. I played imaginary scenarios on the playground with my friends from the same program  – some days we were bats, some days we were just people (we had imaginations  okay? Anyone who doesn’t think that we are incapable of imaginative play needs to be hammered on the head). I talked to everyone (although I never met friends that way. Ever. I think they just thought I was weird.). I even played a small part in a play (I was Rudolph in the now bizarre in hindsight Christmas musical with reindeer and dinosaurs).

Well, okay. I never formed many strong bonds. I never really made a friend with any “typical” students of my own age. I never learnt to skip rope or do the hula hoop and I hated aspects of PE (but I also loved some parts, like chasing around balls on my own….which I did badly but enjoyed). Greetings were always a horrible chore. They still are, when I am forced to do them. They become ritualized, mechanical and as a means to an end for reasons I don’t understand.

I don’t know exactly when the walls started to close in. I didn’t know what happened really. But eventually, as the gap between me and everyone seemed to widen, my world became more and more isolated. As high school came along, it seemed that my “typical” peers were a hundred steps ahead of me in everything, anything…and it was growing, endlessly.

They moved. I stayed stagnant in all but school not involving math. I now pace the halls alone. My best friend is my computer(s).

Would I want a “normal life” or a “social life”? Whatever that means. Whatever that is.

I don’t think so.  It’s been so long that I barely remember when I had friends.  I’m not the greatest with spoken words, but my words seem to come alive when written. In pictures. In videos. In internal voices.  I love the internet. I love computers. I like horses. And other random things. (nah, I don’t think you can combine those very well…not at my level at any of those.)

I also apparently like flying into doors and such too. I’ll write more about that later. But let’s just say having a strange love affair with movement (other sensory things too…I loved those brumble balls even when I was like 8 and I still enjoy the vibration of moving vehicles) etc + being clumsy = “dangerous”.  And weird too. Sigh.

Now, is if only there is an positive way to describe “social skills equivalent to a moving rock” (it does nothing, as do I and then I flee if I can…often the fleeing part comes first though…). For the most part I guess I have the social skills of a pet rock though. Seriously.  I am so disconnected to the world. Trapped in abstraction, thoughts and generally, my own mind.

For the record, in every online version of the  myer-briggs test (MBTI) that I’ve tried, I end up as INTJ.  (My sister is apparently a ISTJ). Maybe it’s completely stupid but it seems to fit me fairly well. J is my weakest, the other three  (INT) are usually (but not always) quite strong. I don’t know…I kind of like being a INTJ…  I’m not a scientist but I probably could have been if I didn’t suck so immensely at math. I like popular science (i.e. science with no equations or math). As an aside, I could be a INTP but I’m not sure.

Family, in name only

Posted on

I always feel so distant from my family – especially one side of the family in particular. Aunts, uncles, cousins. It’s almost as if we were strangers that just happen to be related by blood somehow. But we don’t know each other. Not really. We just eye each other, not knowing what the other is thinking. Not knowing the other person. We’re just strangers who are in the same space based on the claim of shared bloodlines and/or martial relations. In some cases, such as with one of my grandmothers – we’re even separated by a lack of common language. So we’ve never talked. Not once. Probably not ever. And she’ll never understand. I could publish articles, write a book or whatever and she’ll never understand (unless it was translated, maybe).

To be honest, I haven’t even talked to my cousins from that side. As a child. I never played with them. To be they were always separate, strangers. Separate strangers.

I know they all look down on me. Maybe they won’t admit it but I know they do. I guess that makes sense. I’ve always been behind in terms of maturity and of course, socially. Even though they can speak English, it still seems that we are not speaking the same language.

Maybe it’s because my language is so textual, literary. I am way better at writing than speaking. There are a lot of words that I can write but cannot say.  My imagined conversations probably seem more scripted than spontaneous. I am so connected to this language (English) yet know nearly nothing about my ancestral language.

So we look at each other. Not knowing, not trusting. All we know is that we are supposedly related.

Untrusting Prey

Posted on

I am a prey animal. I fully admit it. I’m always high on alert for possible danger and feel like I’m ready to hightail it if things get iffy. I do not want to be approached. I perceive being approached as a threat, and so I flee.

Only it doesn’t work. I’m not fast enough. Not agile enough. Not strong enough. And I know this.

So I desperately hope that no one will be prey on me.

A strange thing happened today. People tease me, that’s nothing new. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened often but it has happened. So I was wandering around and from quite away back were a group of guys that I stayed carefully far away from.  Then a big guy yelled “excuse me!” to get my attention. I looked back briefly and nervously. He started following me as I watched my back. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t know what he’ll do. Then he lifted up his shirt and started shaking his floppy belly. I fled, even though I know he could catch me if he wanted to. I fled. Then I went WTF?

I don’t trust people. I don’t particularly like people.

I don’t know how my grandma thinks lecturing me on not answering doors or phones (which I refuse to do anyway) and the bad people on the world will help me like people any more. It’s sort of hypocritical – expecting me to both trust and not trust strangers.  I don’t know how this lecture helps me. It only makes my I guess social phobia, even worse.  It gives me even more reasons not to interact with the world and hate people (as a species).

I am directly untrusting. And perhaps indirectly trusting at the same time. I know it’s weird.

But I am definitely a prey creature. Small, nimble, skittish. I would be the one to hide in the woods, if there was a wood. It’s not just humans. I’m wary of dogs running towards me. And no, I don’t like horses charging towards me either (not that they ever do, since they rarely come to me).

All I can say, I do hope that the teasing thing will stay an isolated incident.  I also think I need to find more normal hobby eventually (maybe hiking and/or trail running) because I’m getting sick of all the weird looks and increasingly uncomfortable with some of the people who want to pick on me or get my attention as I wander around the block.

Maybe this why I love trails. It’s usually relatively quiet, it can go on for quite a ways, no one thinks you’re weird or lost when you wandering or running alone them and when you get tired, you can look up around you and be in awe of the environment around you.  Also, since it goes somewhere, it’s less boring. Not to mention, it doesn’t have the city hazards and annoyances of busy streets, trashy smells and such. Also, it seems the only way I can get a decent sleep at a decent time is by doing a long hike….otherwise not so much.

I love the forest. I love the smell of it too. (I also wondered if pine sap was edible..since I seemed to be attracted to the smell, I would end up with sticky hands afterwards. It might be…since I’m sure I licked a bit off my hand and I’m still alive. Dumb, I know but the tree was on school property so…). I love the sound of the forest if only all the annoying machinery and shrieking children would all just shut up.

Whatever the case, I’m much more prey then predator.  Maybe that’s why I suck so much at catching horses that don’t want to be caught.