Frailty, Wrath, and Emma Sue - Thy name is MJ
So I’ve been feeling a little frail lately. Not physically but in my self-image. I hate the notion of not fitting as well as I would like into my hottie clothes. I hate the notion of having to buy new hottie clothes because isn’t that, like giving up on the possibility of fitting back into my old hottie clothes?
And then there is reclaiming one’s identity and realling letting yourself sync into that identity. The other day, for a brainjams event that Chris & Kristie ran for the NCDD conference, I tagged myself as Mischief. Blogger. and Opinionator. If I were a contestant on Who Wants to Be A Superhero, I’d be Opinionator. As in, I will come from the future and my assessement, snark, and general judgement of you might just kill you.
It’s funny when you allow, intentionally, for your online identity to be adulterated. On social networks it might be by “accepting as a friend” people who aren[’t really your friend, claiming interests for the sake of cool, swapping up your profile details (ooh… just a few years off the age there, a few lbs off the ass there), or putting up fake profiles or posts for the sake of either a) boredom, or b) research.
There’s something amazingly gratifying about cleaning up one’s online identity when you have to. Pruning your contacts and friends lists, removing silly solicitations, telling that asshole out of Utah that saying Ni Hao to a Korean American girl is totally a) *not* cute b) in fact, offensive, c) hopelessly unatractive.
I responded back with a
” Why, hey, thanks for writing. I appreciate your feeble attempt to be barely charming and distinguished in your message towards me. However, you have failed completely. You have, in fact, come off as a completely ignorant cracker. I’m sorry, but it’s 2006. Do we really all still look so fucking alike to you? Sooky sooky, me no wanna fucky you dumbass. Sorrry, please refrain from sending any more headless crotch shots of yourself.”
And then this,
I’ve had some wacked out dreams of late.
1. Involving me driving towards home and seeing a man fleeing, screaming for his life. I pull into a parking lot and I have a man pointing a gun at me from outside the car. Trying to mug me. I neither a) Drive out of there, b) hand over my car, or c) even reach for my phone. My heart beats too fast during this dream and wakes me up.
2. I am, along with an international crowd of everyday citizens, kidnapped and held hostages on a yacht by a team of scientific terrorists who will sllowly raise the core temperature for specific continents to destroy those populations. They don’t want money. They just want to destroy. Me and the other citizens from all over the world, are the everyday citizens who have to bear witness to this. We have no chance to negotiate with these citizens. A few of us try to figure out what we can do to stop, if at all, these terrorists.
The frenchman, a fatalist, chainsmokes cigarettes and flicks his butts into the sea. “Ve vill all die anyway. Vhat do I care about some silly turtools”
An australian grandmother and her grand daughter feel particularly convicted to do something but don’t know how. The Chinese student is brooding. Kicking his feet along the edge. I, of all people, represent America. I smoke with the French guy. I talk about air currents with the Grandmother and how if one continent is screwed, we all are and it’s just a matter of time. I kiss the Chinese guy on the cheek to get him to come over and talk to us. This is all important after the panicky and wirey dutchman hangs himself out of stress and despair. The woman from Africa. Well. She can’t stop smiling this weary sad grin. She’s been surviving with AIDS since she was 15. She’s seen her parents and siblings kidnapped and/or slaughtered. She’s decided that her fate should be shared by the rest of the world in whatever fashion it has manifested.
An aside note:
According to the dream dictionary:
A tooth falling out within the dream may represent making way for the new, Losing a tooth may represent an inability to get a grip on something, failing to fully comprehend it. If you’re toothless, it may indicate ageing or feeling defenseless
So yesterday, while playing RoboRails with Jason, Jon, and Kevin, I was learning the rules around programming my bot Twonkey when I tapped at my front tooth crown and it popped out.
***plink clatter clatter clatter plink plunk***
as it rattled on the glass table. As I excused myself to the bathroom “Um. Woops. Sorry there. I think that was my tooth…I may either look like an appalachian hickbilly, or a pirate. Talk amongst yourselves” to the gang.
Just call me Emma Sue.
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