It's Halloween and there you have the requisite picture of a child in a costume. In this case, of course, the child is fairly well grown up but she sure is cute. Do you not love the cat tattoo? It's a fake but I like it so much I'd get a real one like that. It would like great on my crepey old chest, wouldn't it? Crepey AND creepy.
It's been an okay day and I did take a pretty good walk and I also had a nice conversation with a neighbor who was two when we moved here and is now twenty which is hard to believe but yes. We were talking about whether our old houses are haunted or not (she lives in a house that is slightly older than mine) and she told me that she doesn't really think it's haunted but that she does not leave her room after three a.m., even if she has to pee. "I'm not superstitious," she said. "But I'm a little bit stitious."
I loved that.
I seriously doubt we'll get any trick-or-treaters. If we do I guess I'll have to give them a shot of tequila or something. Not only are there no children in my immediate neighborhood but due to the palm trees in my front yard it's not easy to get to my front porch under the best of circumstances. I haven't costumed for Halloween in eons but I do keep thinking about August suggesting that I should try and be "pretty" for Halloween. This truly does crack me up. It sort of reminds me of when he was a tiny boy and got so upset because the underneath of my stove's range hood was filthy that I had to clean it for him. Perhaps he believes that as with the range hood, some hard work and the application of magical potions might make me much more presentable.
I love that child.
On Thursday I'll be leaving Lloyd to go to St. George Island where I'll be staying with my nursing school darlings. We did this last year after not being together for many, many years, and it was so wonderful we're doing it again. Of course, me being me, I am going through all sorts of anxiety about everything involved although I do know, because of last year, that it will end up being fabulous and wonderful and a tonic and a joy to my soul to see those women. And we'll be at the beach which is never a bad thing. For tonight's supper I have made one of Mr. Moon's favorites- white bean and venison chili- and there will be enough left over for him to eat a few times while I'm gone.
So. I'm pondering how to go on with this story. What in hell am I attempting to do here? To just tell it in order for it not to be forgotten?
And I wonder if I AM A NARCISSIST! It is one of my greatest fears to discover that I am and I think I have some of the traits. Is wanting to tell my story one of those traits? Are all memoirists narcissists?
Let's try not to get too into the weeds with this. I mean- all bloggers feel that we have something important enough to say that we need to send it out into the world. And Instagramers? And Tik-Tok folks? And podcasters? Do we not live in a world built for narcissists?
I have no idea.
And I just deleted several paragraphs of more of the story because I am not in the state of mind at this moment to be able to determine what is too much and what is not enough.
Perhaps I should just write all of this as a completely separate thing, not on a blog. Or at least, not on Blessourhearts.
I have to think about this.
What I was writing about tonight were the friends I had left behind in Winter Haven where I lived from about 1965-1972. Sixth grade through high school. Those are, of course, incredibly formative years and I have some amazingly wonderful memories of those years and I have some devastatingly horrible memories of those years but throughout the high school years, especially the later ones, I had friends whom I loved so very much. We were all broken toys as the saying goes and all too weird and strange and probably intelligent to fit into the groove of high school life and we supported and loved each other.
We were in fact, each others' ride-or-dies in the most literal sense.
It's lucky we lived and didn't die for the most part but as with almost all humans, we needed and craved and longed for a community of our own, for love, for acceptance.
And in each other, we had that.
There was also a boy (there is always a boy) whom I loved and who broke my heart and the girl he broke it with whom I had thought was my friend.
And so a great part of my depression in Denver came from missing that family of broken toys so very much, and from grieving the love I'd thought I had with a boy who told me he loved me only to find out that he didn't.
Oh Lord- such ridiculous normal-life, teen-aged treacle.
More later, one way or another.
P.S. Another picture.
I probably would not have believed it.
I like how you're thinking about the writing as you're writing it, like laying the track while driving the train. I think the meeting with friends is very well timed.ReplyDelete
I am indeed laying the track while driving the train. Not easy and probably not advised.Delete
The distance of time gives us the opportunity to revisit those painful days of youth. Thank you for sharing with us. And if you do write it down away from here, please let us know where to find it.ReplyDelete
Occasionally, I also look back and wish I could have guided and reassured my younger self. Maybe everybody feels that way but some feel it stronger than others. By the way, in answer to your question - I do not love Jessie's cat tattoo and I am glad for her sake that it is only temporary.ReplyDelete
Well, Vergil LOVED Jessie's cat tattoo. But it had almost all come off by this morning.Delete
Yes, I do think most of us wish we could whisper in the ear of our younger selves.
Narcissism is a self-centered personality style characterized as having an excessive interest in one's physical appearance or image and an excessive preoccupation with one's own needs, often at the expense of others.ReplyDelete
Definitely not you, my son yes, you no.
I don't know, dear Pixie. I think I am fairly obsessively interested in my own appearance to the point where I hate it so much I will not look in mirrors unless I absolutely have to. And I also think I'm preoccupied by my own needs. Okay. Maybe not that one so much. I don't know.Delete
Maybe I'm just crazy.
Oh! I love hearing these stories so much. Keep telling them, keep writing them!ReplyDelete
All right, dear poet. I'll do my best.Delete
Whatever happened, you survived and it made you the wonderful Mary Moon that we all love. august and Levon are the cutest ever Ninja and Spiderman. Jessie looks good too in her purple hair.ReplyDelete
I swear, Jessie has had that wig since middle school. Or maybe one of the older kids had it and passed it down to her. It has certainly served many years to entertain and amuse.Delete
I did survive. The hardest things to survive did not happen after I left home, though, as dangerous as they may sometimes have been.
I LOVE that picture of the three "spooks"!!!! Have a wonderful time with your girlfriends and don't forget to take loads of pictures!ReplyDelete
Oh god. There will be pictures.Delete
Believing you have a story to tell is not the same as being narcissistic. I think it would be interesting. Perhaps it's just a matter of settling on the proper amount of detail.ReplyDelete
Love the trick-or-treating photos. But maybe don't get that cat tattoo. :)
You are such a good editor- yes! Settling on the correct amount of detail. I am pondering that.Delete
What?! You don't think I should get the cat tattoo? But it has a moon and everything!
I had a lot of trick or treaters this year - 50 - 60 I think. I was surprised how many but I had candy - I just had to ration it out after awhile as there were more kids than I expected! It was fun!ReplyDelete
That is a LOT, Ellen! Jeez. Did you see any great costumes?Delete
It was all really a blur! I do remember one young boy in a giant blowup dinosaur costume! I remember thinking he was going to be tired after walking all over with that big thing on but he looked good!Delete
My junior and high schools years were not good ones for me. A loner, I never had a group of friends, maybe one at any one time, and it always amazes me that for some people that was the best time of their lives. Kinda sad really I think. Had a boyfriend in 11th grade and half of 12th then I went to college and we got back together briefly after I got kicked out and sent back home who wanted to marry me. Finally broke up with him for the third and last time.ReplyDelete
Anyway, yes, tell the story. Maybe I'll tell mine.Delete
That whole young love thing is powerful, isn't it? Do we ever really get over it?Delete
The people who loved high school are the ones who always plan the reunions. Another reason not to go to reunions.
Tell your story, Ellen. If you want to.
Wanting to tell your story does not mean you are a narcissist. It means you lead an examined life, which narcissists don’t. Even asking the question proves you’re not. I do however think you should write a memoir if your life. I think for those of us compelled to write, it is how we make sense if the world, stay sane, it is like the drive to create art, we do it for love and sanity. And, as it turns out with wonderful serendipity, for community too. Now that photo of Jessie and the boys is simply perfect—composition, colors, attitude, adventure. It too is art.