At a recent family gathering, we were all sitting post meal, fat & happy around the dining room table. Someone brought up the show Downton Abbey. My aunt was very excited at the mention of the show, however, quickly following her enthusiasm was pure disappointment on her face as she announced, “it’s such a good show, except for those gay scenes they had to put in there.”
My other aunt responded, “Yeah! They put ‘The Gays’ is everything now.”
While I clenched my jaw to keep from opening a futile argument and rolled my eyes with familiar annoyance, my distinctly progressive little sister opened her purse and buried her head inside.
The first aunt asked, “What is she doing?”
With obviousness in my voice I replied, “looking for her salvation.” In a room full of Jesus-loving, Bible-thumping conservatives, my quick wit was not so appreciated.
Several weeks ago I went out with a couple of people from work. After two very delicious mojitos, I was slightly less tight-lipped than usual and told that very story. They all laughed. One of my coworkers suggested, “You really need to write a book,” to which I thought, “Of all the bizarre things I’ve been through, you find that anecdote interesting enough to suggest a book?! Oh Honey, the things you don’t know.”
Truth be told, this is not the first time someone has suggested a book about my past; and while many things in my life have been unorthodox and arduous, albeit amusing, I’ve often felt writing a book about them would be too emotionally involving and therefore destructive to my ability to move forward. Sometimes only thinking about particular memories or times in my life paralyzes me with pain, anger, & disdain. However, writing is my only true curative hobby. While a book is too daunting to conceive at this time, blog posts or short stories are not. Thus, here we are.
The unique situations in which I continuously found myself in the first quarter century of my life have created a sense of isolation, of otherness. They’ve created in me the inability to relate to the majority of human beings with whom I come in contact. The ridiculous individual accumulated occurrences that have made up my life have concocted the perfect unparalleled unique perspective on life one needs to tell a good story. Alterity.