I took a page from your book, and a line from your page, and flew into a lesbian rage

swimmerguy's picture

Watching Six Feet Under always gets me introspective, so here goes:

I don't really know anyone, nor does anyone know me. I mean, we're born alone and we die alone, but that doesn't mean we have to live alone. I know I've said that before, but it's more true now than it's ever been before.
Part of the problem, I know, is that I go to high school. Many people there just aren't the type that I can connect with deeply, and that means that the people there are who I might've been able to connect with deeply, the pool isn't that big, so it's not assured I'll actually like and want to connect with any of those people.
I have "friends", as in people I hang out with at school and we have silly fun together, and then I have friends, who I hang out with outside of school (but not as much in school, I got screwed this year class-wise) and talk about things that actually matter, and by that I usually mean politics or things outside of every daily life for a privileged high school student (or sometimes within it, like complaining about the leadership of our school, which is pretty much a fucking one party state.)
And then I have a few real friends, I mean friends I can talk about not just about issues that matter, but about myself as well, but I just don't see many of these real friends that often, and when I do, it's not usually in a position to talk about such things.

I mean, I have people to complain to, and I guess I should be grateful for that, people I can complain about my recent crash to, my lost phone, my shitty job, etc.
Not everyone has that. That's honestly a valuable thing.

And then my family. That one's really depressing. As a person I can really talk to about myself, my brother's about the only one, but of course, being in college and not very good about keeping up with electronic communication, I hardly ever get to see him, and I'll have to accept that it'll probably be something like that for most of the rest of my life.

Then there's my parents. I mean, I love them and don't want to be estranged or anything, and most of the time they're pretty cool. But they, for the most part, took the parenting strategy that if I do something they don't like, they yell at me, if I do it again, they yell louder, if I do it again, who even knows what they'll do next time.
It was always me trying to spite them, they never tried to find the reason behind it. Honestly, some of the blame lies with me. Like, with cleaning, like most people, I'm a whirlwind cleaner. I do shit-zero in the cleaning department for a week, until all of a sudden I see this room is a goddamn mess, and I have a few free minutes. Why not clean it all up? and then I do.
But my mom always keeps the room so clean, if I don't clean it, she just does it herself than yells at me. I still have no clue if my current cleaning mentality would really work if I was on my own in any sanitary capacity, and I never changed my mentality because I always thought she was just being excessive, that I'm just inherently different but not in any worse way.
And I don't know. We're certainly different. I do a lot of shit, she cleans the house all day (not trying to degrade what she does, it's a lot of work, but that just is what she does, she doesn't have a job). It's honestly happened where I've honestly just not noticed that ball of clothes in the corner for a week because I've been doing other shit, I've noticed it them immediately forgotten it, and she's honestly wanted to take me to a psychiatrist, wondering how the hell I wouldn't notice it.

Sometimes she and my dad really do want me to do things their way for good parental reasons, but sometimes they just like their way and don't realize there's an alternative. Sometimes they're just wrong.
Like when I was learning to drive, especially stick shift, I'd be torn a new asshole every single day. I don't know if you've driven stick, but it's really something to learn. Oftentimes it takes independent coordination of every limb you have (left hand turning the wheel. right hand shifting the gears, left foot on the clutch, right on the gas).
And I get it, they've been driving twice as long as I've even been alive, and I get it, it's terrifying to be in a car on the freeway with a person who just can't drive.
But they loved to yell too much. They'd yell at me for things that weren't intentional, they'd accuse me of being lazy. (Oh, one that really still pisses me the fuck off, I used to have a bit of trouble finding fifth gear, so while I took a second, literally a second, to find it, I'd forget to take my foot off the gas and the car would rev way up, and my dad would scream and tell me I was too lazy to take my foot off the gas, as if that's even a thing.)
And honestly, I wasn't. I saw what happened to my brother, his crashes and the grief that came to him, and friends who had the same. I tried hard, I can honestly say that even now, and whether it's their fault or not they didn't have the perspective to see that, driving stick was so second nature to them that anything less seemed like laziness.

I never realized this til after a few months ago: my dad and I went to REI, and all of a sudden, mistakes I hadn't made in over a year started cropping up again, and my dad really started to get pissed off.
But I didn't, and I don't, make those mistakes anymore, not since I got my license. I realized that his yelling intimidated me, everything about him, and that distracted me, which made me worse, which made him yell more, which intimidated me more, etc.
I'd never been able to get better, really better as a driver, until I drove many many miles by myself and was able to relax, no more fucking back-seat driving to ride my ass. The instant my dad was back in the passenger seat though, it all came right back: it'll be a long time before I'm able to drive normally with my parents in the car.

Now, with my job, I'm gone so often, more than 12 hours of the day, and most of the rest of my waking hours are in my room doing homework. And often my parents are gone, having dinner or something, without me.
Most of the time I ever talk to them anymore is when they're yelling at me about something, to the point that I freak out, looking for stuff they might yell at me over, bottling up my own anger, and generally avoiding them as the path of least resistance. I still haven't come out to my mom, not really because I'm scared of being judged or even that I would really care if I was, more just as an instinctive recoil from telling my parents anything personal about me or my relationships, even to the extent of what gender it is that I enjoy having emotional and sexual relationships with.

As for someone, some guy, who I could actually connect with on an emotional and/or sexual level, it just hasn't happened.
There was Daniel, more than a year ago now, hard to believe, but that was more sheer boredom than anything else, and besides that, what?
I've been trying with SSS, but he canceled our coffee date for a reason I can't remember, now he's not answering me on fb, and I don't really see him over the course of the day, except after 6th period when I'm rushing by on my way to my job, unfortunately. I just don't want to intimidate and/or annoy him, it would be awesome if it actually worked out. He's awesome, and, incidentally, really cute.

Which leaves me doing an awful lot of shit by myself, which, believe it or not, I don't even mind that much. I kinda find it weird that I talk to myself in the second person and often using the word we, but other than that, like Chris McCandless in Into the Wild I'm quite content with myself for long periods of the time.
I mean, I'm also fine with shooting the shit with whoever, but it doesn't even matter. Like I've climbed several mountains recently by myself, and, to be honest, I might like that even better than with friends (part of that is that hiking shape is different than any other kind of fitness, and since none of my friends really hike I'm slowed way down by them).
Sometimes, I've gone on obscure, freaky trails, somewhat dangerous sometimes, but beautiful, and I have an adventure by myself, first of all because no one wants to do it with me, but then I really have a good time anyway. And if I don't see anyone else the entire day, I'm content with that, it's almost satisfying (I was the only human being in the world to set foot on, let alone to the top of, this mountain, today).
Or then again, if I do see someone, that's okay too.

I don't know if that's really how I am, or if I've just been consumed by a bad school schedule and a lonely job so much I've forgotten, or never have known, what I'm missing.

Just tonight, after a full fucking day of working, I got Subway, ran all through the wooded gulch nearby,
and it was really foggy and getting late, I climbed a tree at the top of the gulch, and at my dinner up there, looking out over the river of fog filling the gulch, and then had a bit of a creepy, yet awesome, Slenderman-like experience finding my way back in the growing darkness.
If I'd had a friend with me that would've been fine, but there's just something to the fact that I did it by myself. It's an experience of total privacy and personal value, if someone came into my room right now with a gun and sprayed my brains all over the wall, that experience would be gone forever for everyone, it's entirely mine forever (except now, of course, that I decided to share it.)

I don't know, Six Feet Under kinda motivates me to live at the same time as motivating me to sit my ass down and watch more Six Feet Under, that show is the most ugly beautiful thing I've ever seen.


jeff's picture


"I'd be torn a new asshole every single day."

That's hot.

"You don't know you're beautiful." - Harry Styles

elph's picture

So... evocative!

I'll only add that I wish I could have joined you sitting on an adjoining branch in the gulch (or... even better...) with Subway in hand (Turkey Breast + Jalapeños). I'd dearly have loved to have been there... just as a good listener... for hours!

elph's picture

Oh… I should have finished this imaginary episode…

…after a few hours… and after our mutual tears have dried… I'll now speak a few hopeful words of encouragement… and then magically sublimate into the same ether from whence I arrived!

On my way home, I'll likely pick up another Subway… as I originally had only a 6-incher; and as for your 12-incher, I would hope little remains!

It'd be great if you could peacefully sleep away the remainder of the night in a hammock suspended from your limb high above ground… with warm covers, of course!

Bosemaster42's picture


Typically, are the worst at driver education. My father was good, he would never yell, or say much of anything while I was behind the wheel with him riding shot-gun. He would remind me of infractions or why I may have missed a gear, but he had the patience of a saint. My Mother, well, that's another story. She was usually holding on for dear life and I always found it amusing when she would 'ghost brake' in the passenger seat or pretend I was about to crash. Trust, never comes easy.
At some point, driving a standard will become second nature to you. Once that occurs, the yelling should cease, but then again, who knows?

swimmerguy's picture

That's just the thing

it already is natural, I shift really without thinking about it, but it's only when my parents ride in the car that I get intimidated and nervous and mess up because of lingering nerves about them yelling at me. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Bosemaster42's picture


are allowing them to intimidate you. If you don't speed, obey signs, and your not grinding the fuck out of your transmission, they should be silent.
I know, because they have yelled in the past, you don't want a repeat performance, so don't give them a reason to bitch at you. In fact, speak up!
Tell them directly and with authority that when they yell, it makes you nervous and uncomfortable. A nervous & uncomfortable driver is prone to making mistakes. Try this: " Shut up! Put your seat belt on and let me fucking drive!" If need be you can omit swearing, but make your point known.