05-10-03 -
Yesterday beingt with Wayne and my sister Dicey distracted me wonderfully from a small disappointment from Bat. The three of us went to a bad punk concert in the memory of her recently-murdered friend Nick. We had a ball rockin' out for the short time when the music playing wasn't painful to the ear. Everyone was staring at us and I felt we knew a secret they didn't -- that moving your body around feels good and that outweighs the potential dislike of already judgemental, insecure teenagers. Then we watched SLC Punk together and I was launched into a massive talk on anarchy, zen buddhism, and similar topics.
Earlier today Dicey and I passed a group of boys at the movie theatre. When she said hello, one of the boys immediately turned to her and said, "My God, you are one gross girl." I walked straight up to the boy and looked him straight in the eye -- I was close enough to see the immediate reaction before it was censored, a quick flinch as I said, "You know what? Fuck you." I think they saw the fighting look when they said "I bet she could beat you up." (I think they intended this to be an insult. It's impractical as I am pretty spindly, although feisty.) I said, "I possibly could. You'd best leave well enough alone," and probably some other impractical and angry things. I know what it was like to be considered "the disgusting one." I wish I could have punched him in the face. I don't want these people to have the chance to humiliate another person. I want them to know what it feels like to be humiliated instead.
This evening Dicey told that I don't seem to love her, using the same arguements as always -- I don't put as much time into Bat as I do for her, I talk about Bat, I don't talk about her in my diary. I don't put as much concious effort into spending time with Dicey as she does with me, but I don't see how she can chalk that up to "not loving her." She has admitted herself that I would easily sacrifice for her or die for her sooner than even her closest friends in times past. If I had to choose her life's or Bat's, she would most likely win over in a matter of seconds -- I feel called to take care of her as if it's my divine purpose (strong words from an atheist.) I admit Bat has taken up a lot of my time and energy. I theorize this is partially because our time together is more than likely finite in comparison to my relationship with her.
We have spent many interesting and fun times together. We have sung duets of songs in operetic voices, shared heartache over the same music. We have confided in each other and joked -- invented false religions, read poetry to each other, discussed how we relate to our parents and feel about God and sex. We've shared crab rangoons and smoked together sharing our various romantic pains. I can't find a definite reason as to why I write about Bat more than Dicey, or neglect mentioning the family, but I think it's because these pleasures with Bat are a more "new" thing and therefore feel intense while the process of pain and joy with Dicey is something more continous. Dicey has been here since I was 4 : Bat has been around 6 months. When Bat goes, most likely, Dicey will still be here.
Perhaps I have taken her for granted. I also haven't mentioned the philosophical talks I have had with my Dad -- the issues we agree and disagree on, or how he has made the backyard into a private little mediation garden. I haven't mentioned the continous support my mother has given me time and time again. It's hard to see something in a writer's eye when it's a gift so clear and obvious. Now that I've noticed this, it's a perception and a writer's error I can work to fix...
