School

Oddly enough, this past weekend I was thinking about my experiences in school (while being a little taken aback by how long ago I graduated high school; two years will be the fiftieth anniversary of that). Public school was unpleasant for me after we moved to the suburbs (it was fine when we lived in the city), and I always figured the other kids somehow figured out that I was gay and bullied me until we moved to Kansas, where I had one good year before it started up again. How do they always know? What I actually didn’t know was that my sister (and why wouldn’t she have told him, or my mother?) told my father (in the wake of Mom’s death) that I was bullied pretty badly. Dad brought it up at some recently (I think during the May trip) , but he had an entirely different perspective and one that had never occurred to me before; “you were so much younger than everyone. Not only should we not have let you skip a grade, we should have held you out a year.”

Wow. Wasn’t prepared for that massive paradigm shift in my head canon. I also recently read a post from someone who, like me, had been bullied for being gay in high school, only to have one of his bullies reach out to reconnect like nothing had ever happened…which is also something similar to my experience; people I went to high school with are stunned that I remember being bullied and don’t have good memories. ‘But everyone loved you!” they always say, and I am always taken aback by their reaction. Is it…is it possible that calling me a fag was just…teasing and didn’t mean anything more? And I can remember, actually, hearing them call other guys that, too–an insult and a joke…so were they really just teasing me, considering me one of the guys? Did it sting so badly and horribly because it was true, and they didn’t know? And of course, given my brain chemistry issues…

And yes, I was sixteen when I graduated from high school. I was almost three years younger than some of the kids in my graduating class.

I will have to explore this in an essay at some point. Two or three years in teenager is a fucking lot. And it seems like my sixties are my decade for reflecting on the past.

But it’s Tuesday, I am awake and drinking coffee, Sparky is being annoying because he wants attention and my body doesn’t feel quite awake yet. The heat warning is going through the weekend (!!!) so again, probably going to try to stay inside as much as possible. There’s only a month left of this extreme heat…yay? There were some systems out there they were watching for potential hurricane development, but this morning’s check of the NOAA web page shows nothing of interest, which is different from the last time I looked at that map. But the local weather also shows nothing to watch out there, so I guess those systems disbursed? Not sure how to feel about that and whether to trust it or not, but….nothing to worry about is nothing to pay attention to. Our garbage disposal also–per our landlady–has a clogged filter so my kitchen sink spigots don’t let any water through. This started on Sunday, but Sam the handyman wasn’t around yesterday, but he’s out there this morning so I will tell him on my way out to the office and hopefully, tonight I can do the dishes. Yesterday was very miserably hot, so much so that the a/c in the car never blew cool. I was concerned–it needs freon, I think, so Friday morning I’ll have to drive over to the West Bank (due for oil change, too) and get that looked at–there’s no way I can survive a summer here without functional a/c in the car.

We are all caught up on House of the Dragon, and watched another Ride or Die. I was glad to see Sir Criston die horribly and dishonorably; personally I loved that he challenged his foes to a duel only to get an arrow in the chest in response. It also made me think of an allegory last night, as Rhaenyra and Daemon continued to make mistakes and fail at ruling; it’s much easier to capture a throne than it is to govern, as the Republicans remind us over and over. The only thing they are actually good at is being an opposition party. Democrats are shitty at opposition but good at governing for the most part. Isn’t that always the way? Westeros is descending into chaos again–and chaos, as we remember from Littlefinger, is a ladder.

Yesterday was a kind of weird one, honestly. I did feel off all day, not really sure what that was all about, but I also managed to get current on everything. I did some writing yesterday, too, but not much but it was something, a couple of hundred words, but it was some progress and every word is one word closer to having a completed first draft. I am coming straight home from work tonight, and if the sink is working I’ll do the dishes, and then I am going to reread what I already have done and make notes–I already have some for Chapter One–and hopefully this weekend I will be able to get more written, since I’ll be camped out inside the house all weekend. The house is a very lovely cool oasis from the heat and humidity. Oh! I also figured out some more Scotty things! Which makes me happy, you have no idea. I was beginning to think Scotty was gone from me now…horrors!

And on that thought, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Taco Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you again tomorrow.