From Whence I Came

Yeah, I've "spoken" - perhaps too much - of the day that changed everything. The beginning that was an ending that was the beginning of an ending and the end of a way of life. Well, the "anniversary" of that date is fast approaching - September 14, 2006, to be precise about it. I've been so melancholy and edgy...and I'm sort of aware of it (obviously), but it wasn't until just recently that I've become AWARE of it. I guess we're all like that.

I recently had job interview in which it became necessary to "disclose". They were going to background check, and I decided that it was preferable to me to get my story out there in some sort of a context, rather than as the contents of a perfunctory report that related just the facts. Ma'am. I'll have another such opportunity tomorrow, and to bastardize Nietzsche...even though it does make you stronger, I'd argue that it kills you a little bit in the process, too. The only way I can really characterize it is surreal: THIS is my life? THIS is my story? And that is where I become eminently frustrated: Because it's only PART of the story, but such a fantastic part that it sort of supersedes all else. What I told this interviewer, though, is so much easier to say, and boy, does it sound eloquent. I said: "I would have to ask, at what point does one's past become just that - one's past?" I also gave her some blahblahblah - and I'm coming across as more facetious than I felt, or feel - about the fact that I CANNOT dwell there...that I have to look ahead but that when I do look back, I look at the then and the now.

And that brings me to more surreality: I mentioned that my formal punishment consisted of 6 months in an "alternative" correctional facility - although my lawyer nailed it when she told the prosecutor that they could send me to prison (and that was the first offer from the prosecutor - two years in prison, take it or leave it, and you should really take it because I happen to be in a "generous" mood today), they could take my freedom, but the divorce/custody had really taken all that was meaningful from me; this woman can be hurt no further, she said. Well, during that 6 months, I crossed a lot of paths. And some of them were being trodden by some very disturbing people, disturbing in the way that institutionalization renders a person. One of those path-walkers is back for another 15-minute helping of infamy...she's currently facing federal charges for compelling prostitution...of minors...and despite the fact that, in the interest of said minors, particulars about the kids are being closely guarded, it's very likely that at least one of these children is her own.

Relativity is inherently dangerous in many ways, particularly when it's being used for self-aggrandizement or, worse, self-pity. This woman's actions have been in my face and on my mind for several weeks now, and I fear that I'm applying my own, very twisted version of the Theory of Relativity. Like addiction, for this there is no cure...and I need to get myself on the road to recovery quickly. I'm finding myself licking wounds that should have healed long ago...and maybe even some that never existed in the first place.