I’ve been a fairly ‘out of the box’ person, to utilize marketing parleyance, for most of my life. I remember my mother telling me what a serious little girl I was, that she feared that I’d have a heart attack before I turned 30. Still, I found time to look into puddles and see reverse-worlds on the other side – a place where all the cool things in my imagination were possible and I wasn’t a horrible little girl that was Hyper and had to be on Ritalin for 9 years in order to keep me from becoming a child tornado that wrecked everything in her path. I was diagnosed before the term ADD was coined, and I still consider myself Hyper. Hyper focused. Hyper aware. Hyper energetic. Almost manic at times. When I’m up, I’m WAAAAAY up. The downs used to stay with me for months of grief, but over the years, they’ve shrunk to days. Sometimes hours, for which I’m immensely grateful.
I never really felt like I belonged, which I guess was the social metronome of the kids back in the ’80′s that found themselves drawn to the punk crowds. I knew kids that had spent their 16th birthday strapped to a bed in a mental facility. Other kids shared horror stories of being molested by family members, if not assaulted and put in the hospital by them. I ran with teens that I knew had ties to the black market doing nefarious things – I never asked questions, because it wasn’t my business. I’ve had a colorful life.
As I’ve stated before, I didn’t really ‘find myself’ until I started going to Rocky Horror Picture show and met the glorious degenerates there that became my freak family. We all looked out for each other, as we could. After the movie, we’d all pile in cars and hit the Dunkin Donuts down the road and either spend the night in an abandoned house in Fairfax that smelled like urine and animal musk or head over to a friend’s house to watch amateur pornographic movies with the sound turned down and New Order blaring at top volume. Lots of Jolt and Everclear was consumed in those days. Good times.
Some of the people I met back then I’m still friends with, and very fond of. Some of that group moved on, some didn’t. Some are now dead – reckless lives spent in that bright burning trail that sputters out far too early, or they were just idiots. After RHPS, I discovered my next big social love – conventions. SciFi/Media/Fantasy – I was all over them. That’s where I met the second half of my ragtag family. I’m still close to most of the people I met through conventions, and still consider them family.
I’ve changed a great deal since my teens. I’ve since gone through two and a half months of USMC boot camp on Parris Island (received a medical discharge due to consistent heat stroke issues), worked at various computer and internet industry related jobs since 1989, run main events tech for CastleCon/EveCon and KatsuCon (in the early years), DJ’d and hung out at at BDSM events in downtown Washington D.C., gone to Cuba to be initiated as a Santeria priestess (Omo Yemaya), alternately wept and laughed with joy as my mother left this life to go to a place where she could dance and read again, published a full length novel, as well as a smutty novelette, have narrated many lovely, filthy stories for various authors and finally seem to have found my calling as a shaman/priestess/medium.
43 years, and a lot of it was spent waiting for life to happen. Sure, I took the bull by the horns at times, but it seems that I’ve spent a really large portion of my time on this planet waiting for awesome things to happen.
Over the last year, I realized that I stopped actively having adventures. I had stopped jumping out of my comfort zone. For the last month or so, I’ve started getting back into the groove – and man, is it invigorating.
This feels like a good starting point to take the next logical step. Maybe I’m feelin’ the need to sow some wild oats, as it were – although being that I have ovaries, I guess that’d be more like casting adrift some wild eggs.
In any event, it’s time to go have adventures again. Time to get back to creating my life instead of waiting for it to happen. My legs are itchin’ to start moving.
Time to get on the road and live somewhere else, finally. I am very much looking forward to getting away from suburbia – the city, and reconnecting to nature – mountains, streams, climbing, healing.
It’s the beginning of a vision quest.
I’ll be writing about the places I visit, as well as throwing up as many pictures as possible so people that want to can share the journey as I discover the beauty of the land that I was born and raised in. I’ve heard and seen too much politically, and having lived in and near DC all my life, I’m tired of the current poisonous taste in my mouth about the US. It can’t be all bad, can it? Screw news reports – I’m going to go see for MYSELF.
Part of this journey is to rediscover the great things about this place – to reassure myself that the dream and the people aren’t entirely lost.