Brainshambles

I carry with me a few particularly vivid memories of my early childhood. For example, and I have no idea why, but I can remember this lamp that sat next to my bed when I was maybe 3 or 4 years old. It was a bunch of plastic ballons, and I loved it. Across from that lamp on the dresser, was a 10 gallon fish tank. My mom and I were always replenishing the goldfish in that tank. We had a claw foot bathtub, and I remember the smell of my father’s mouthwash. Antiseptic Listerine. The bad tasting yellow kind.

I remember watching the Wizard of Oz every single day, on VHS. I was the only child for those first five years and I loved the Wizard of Oz. And now I’m obsessed with tornadoes. Sort of strange how little bits of early-acquired, seemingly random data imbue habits and affinities later in one’s life.

A caged bird is just a caged bird.

But this bird wants to fly, like a free bird.

Always wanting. Want want want. When I am gone, whether by death or just temporary dislocation, I hope some can look back and think, “Wow. She gave me something. She gave me so much”.

Short declarations sum up my speedway of a life. So clear becomes the reason why I relate to the greatest, most infamous ladies of time. Monroe, Garland, Harlow–even present day Lohan. Torment equals greatness. But therein lies another challenge. To tame the source of vexation and create usable, valuable responses to environmental pressures. Always up for a challenge, so long as I know I can stay in the driver’s seat.

And. So. It. Goes.