The Haunting of Misfit
By The Misfit | October 15, 2008
No, I’m not possessed. I’ve just been thinking.
And, frankly, I’m not sure which is worse. 
Seriously, there have been so many thoughts zig-zagging through my head today I doubt that I’ll be able to shut down once the time comes to crawl in bed. The synapses have been firing non-stop.
The bastards.
Anyway, it’s funny (ironic funny as opposed to ha ha funny) how one idea will lead to a million thoughts and a realization that you’re not sure you wanted to have in the first place.
See, today in our lecture (minus one as WB has caught the cold that I’ve had – maybe picked it up from me, maybe not – I’m hedging my bets as I wouldn’t wish this damn thing on my worst enemy) we were talking about (among other things) the difference between male and female gothic and how the concept of torture is decidedly physical in one (male) and mental in the other (female – and no jokes here, please, though I admit I left it wide open). Basically torture in male gothic is external and torture in female gothic is internal.
Before we got to that point, though, Dale, the tutor, is going along at his usual breakneck speed and asks us something along the lines of “What makes torture different in the female gothic?” and I put forth that torture in the female gothic is completely psychological. Essentially heroines are haunted (i.e. tortured) by their remembrances and thoughts of people that they’re separated from either by death or other nefarious means and they essentially drive themselves batty. (And what I said in class wasn’t nearly as eloquent.)
So the little voice in the back of my brain goes: Holy Crap, you’re like a heroine in a gothic story!
(Thankfully, I didn’t blurt this out loud because I really can’t see myself explaining all the freakin’ back story and history and personal b.s.)
I guess it sounds funny to compare myself to a character in a book, but the fact of the matter is that I am damn good about torturing myself in the exact same manner – countless times, really, but only three times of any great duration or importance. The first ended because I was finally able to put it in perspective – plus he got married and I may be a lot of things, but that’s not somewhere I’d ever be willing to go. The second time sort of finally petered out due to someone else catching my interest and the fact that he, too, married someone else. I still have enough animosity about the whole thing to where I’d probably black his eye given half the chance, though.
And the third. Well, the third is kinda sorta still ongoing. (And for those of you who know me well enough to take an educated guess, I’m sure you’ll figure out who it is, but I will neither confirm nor deny to anyone except the person it involves and frankly I don’t expect him to bring it up. He could surprise me, though, but I’m not holding my breath. Besides, it’s a moot point as I doubt he even reads the blog.)
So, anyway, I did a great deal of contemplating today in the midst of my realization – helped along by just about every shuffled song on my iPod. It’s funny (again, ironic, not ha ha) that whenever I try to ignore this whole damn thing something comes along to shove it right back to the forefront. And it’s been like that since the beginning. I thought about how this person plays everything so close to the chest and how no matter what I do (including doing nothing) I never quite know what’s going on in his head. I trust my instincts enough to have some sort of idea about things, but I have no way of knowing whether I’m right or not. I also know that my past behavior played a huge role in finding myself where I do now – this actually came up last week for me, but I still tossed it around. I can’t take all of the responsibility, but I sure as hell can lay claim to what’s mine. I did some pretty creepy stuff – unintentionally because I tend to just jump in with both feet and not think about how other people are going to view my actions. I’m an Aries, for pete’s sake. I don’t think about things until afterward.
I also did a lot of thinking about risk. So many people have told me that picking up and moving to Scotland for grad school was pretty ballsy and risky, but there’s not much risk in getting my butt on a boat and schlepping across the Atlantic Ocean to live in a country I’ve never been before. I grew up like that, so it’s really not all that unusual.
What’s risky for me is taking a chance on someone – even if it is only a small possibility. Risky is me opening my heart up to get stomped on. And despite my struggle with this whole thing, it remains open. I’m a firm believer that we meet certain people who are to play a rather large role in our lives – what his role is remains to be seen. But I’m willing to run the risk of getting hurt again in order to find out.
And who knows? Maybe he’ll decide to take a risk, too.
Update: was not surprised. *shrug* life rolls on. It’s probably about time.
Topics: misfit human behavior, misfit musings, the misfit life | No Comments »