Tuesday, September 09, 2003
What Is, What Is?
"So, how was your life before you came here?" the woman asked.
"Strange," Crazy Girl replied and said no more.
There was an uncomfortable silence. The woman cleared her throat. "Strange how?"
"Strange in that I knew things before that I didn't realize I knew and that I didn't realize the impact of those things. For some reason, I was much more wise when I was younger than now, when I'm older. I don't understand it. I still have the wisdom, but I didn't know how to expand on it. Now that I do, it just seems...antisocial to do so."
"What do mean by that?"
"By what?"
"The antisocial."
"To be who I am requires a lot of energy, time, and patience. I am much more patient that people realize. I also see more in a person than the average person does. I believe that we all human, subject to our own foibles, successes, skills...whatever. I understand that seeing the big picture is part of my nature -- me being female and all -- but I don't understand why no one else sees things the way I do. It's relatively simple. And, I believe, much more healthy in terms of psyche. What is the point at which someone says, 'Fuck it', and realizes what I have? For me, that was pretty early and under harsh conditions. So I do have a tendency to withdraw from people, mainly for my own wellness, so that I don't get overly fustrated with people in general. The book is in front of them, they can turn to any page they want to, and write out how their life is going to be that day. And there's so much I want to know about people...to pick them apart and find out what drives them to do what they do. Sometimes I've been wrong. Lots of times I've been right. One thing leads to another, to another, to another...and on it goes. But I'm alone with the library. And no one has time to read any more...."
"So you have problems with feeling alone."
"I didn't say that. Yes, I may, but I don't really. I can't sum it up in an hour. It's too complex for me to put into words."
At that point, the woman scribbled something down on a sheet of paper. Crazy Girl tried not to roll her eyes or groan. They will keep me in my white room with the high windows forever, she thought. 'Uncooperative'. God, it's like fourth grade -- 'Does not play well with others.' Isn't there a person on God's Green Earth for whom the statement 'I can't put it into words' means something? Like the beauty of a sunset, or looking at the stars? You'd think I was Hitler with the way they've described me. I've done nothing wrong.
There was a moment of silence. "Okay, that's fine for this week. You may return to your room."
Out, Crazy Girl thought. I've got to get out of here.
And she knew the way to do it, too.
"So, how was your life before you came here?" the woman asked.
"Strange," Crazy Girl replied and said no more.
There was an uncomfortable silence. The woman cleared her throat. "Strange how?"
"Strange in that I knew things before that I didn't realize I knew and that I didn't realize the impact of those things. For some reason, I was much more wise when I was younger than now, when I'm older. I don't understand it. I still have the wisdom, but I didn't know how to expand on it. Now that I do, it just seems...antisocial to do so."
"What do mean by that?"
"By what?"
"The antisocial."
"To be who I am requires a lot of energy, time, and patience. I am much more patient that people realize. I also see more in a person than the average person does. I believe that we all human, subject to our own foibles, successes, skills...whatever. I understand that seeing the big picture is part of my nature -- me being female and all -- but I don't understand why no one else sees things the way I do. It's relatively simple. And, I believe, much more healthy in terms of psyche. What is the point at which someone says, 'Fuck it', and realizes what I have? For me, that was pretty early and under harsh conditions. So I do have a tendency to withdraw from people, mainly for my own wellness, so that I don't get overly fustrated with people in general. The book is in front of them, they can turn to any page they want to, and write out how their life is going to be that day. And there's so much I want to know about people...to pick them apart and find out what drives them to do what they do. Sometimes I've been wrong. Lots of times I've been right. One thing leads to another, to another, to another...and on it goes. But I'm alone with the library. And no one has time to read any more...."
"So you have problems with feeling alone."
"I didn't say that. Yes, I may, but I don't really. I can't sum it up in an hour. It's too complex for me to put into words."
At that point, the woman scribbled something down on a sheet of paper. Crazy Girl tried not to roll her eyes or groan. They will keep me in my white room with the high windows forever, she thought. 'Uncooperative'. God, it's like fourth grade -- 'Does not play well with others.' Isn't there a person on God's Green Earth for whom the statement 'I can't put it into words' means something? Like the beauty of a sunset, or looking at the stars? You'd think I was Hitler with the way they've described me. I've done nothing wrong.
There was a moment of silence. "Okay, that's fine for this week. You may return to your room."
Out, Crazy Girl thought. I've got to get out of here.
And she knew the way to do it, too.
