Who Are You . . . Write it Down

Do you know who you are? Do you know what you stand for? Do you know how you feel about things? Who are your hidden demons or friendly Caspers. You should put it on paper–it makes it real and erasable.

Here are my demons and Caspers.

I am the type of person who if I think there is an ant in my swimming goggles I will stop, take off the googles and inspect to assure that no ant is going to crawl in my eye–every time.

I am that person who believes she will meet her demise by meeting a bus head on. I have always thought that. I used to watch my Nana cross a busy avenue in Brooklyn in the middle of the street, not looking either way and just stepping out in front of traffic. Luckily she survived this, I’m not sure how many times, but unfortunately died by falling down a flight of stairs in the house and hitting her head. This shit happens.

I am also the person who has to ride her bike every summer because I have to know that I can still do that. It is always a scary proposition riding a bike when you have firmly believed you will be hit head on by a bus. I like to think of myself as fearless unless it involves ants. The idea of getting older and not being as fearless as I would like to be, makes me do things because I have to prove that I am still who I think I am.

I’ve found that I like the same things as an older person as I did as a younger person. I was always the last kid out of the pool–I loved the water. I have no idea how I learned to swim but never remember not knowing. I find it a meditative event. I would like to record my thoughts while in the pool. It always feels like a creative space but I can never translate while out of the pool. I am still a pool person.

Sorry, rambling …

I have learned that I don’t have to feel anything for a person. I don’t have to have an opinion, nor do I need to like them. I will try not to objectify. But opinions are strong and I have a shitload of them. I will try to feel nothing for people I think are ignorant. I am aghast to even write something like that. For example, my friend says the people who voted for Trump were fearful. OK, I get that, but I figure they cannot even begin to believe that Trump cares for them or has a program or policy they support. He has no policy. If it were good for him to change direction on any one of the evangelical issues, he would. I don’t have to feel anything for a person–not love, not hate, not friendship. They are human; and have stories as I do. [Sorry not meant to be a political post, just an example of feelings.]

I mentioned to a friend that when I do meet my demise, and if reincarnation exists, I want to be prepared. I wish to come back as a fish–not a particularly big fish. I mentioned a minnow; she convinced me that their life span is about an hour or two–so I decided a fluttering type fish with fins having trails of what appear to be feathers would be a good choice. I am learning a new swim stroke that makes me feel like a fish. I want to be prepared for the future just in case we are reincarnated.

As life, this post will be continued …