It All Falls Down

Most of you probably already know I'm an alien. I dress like a crazy person, or a model. I laugh at the wrong things when I'm not thinking. I like plants, on the whole, better than people. In fact, it's shrubbery and trees I check out, walking down the street, not boys and girls. I read at mostly inhuman speed, generally have a half-dozen mental states available to me without the use of external chemicals, and have an actual addiction to the internet (
less than two hits a day and I get the shakes). I would rather kiss most rats than most people, am both alarmingly sensitive and appallingly indifferent to suffering, and love a dozen people deeply.

Most alien, most pertinent right now, I have no real memories. I live too much in the past, the present, or the future to function well, but both the past and the future are stories I tell myself. The precious hoard of past I live in exists because I retell my stories to myself; more recently too it is because I look back in livejournal, and trade reminisces with my family. I retain a couple dozen images, a few movie clips, and no sound in my head from greater than a year ago. I am untethered by my real past in a way I think few are. I am a kite without that kind of string; I am a bird. I tether myself in other ways, I learn to record, and I am happy. Sometimes I slip into the present enough that I forget there can be a future or a past. Stuck as a set of eyes and immediate reactions (did you know it requires longer than 'now' to take a thought to vocalisation?), I am still happy.

Thusly, anticipation is the strongest of nectars for me. When I know a fairy castle might be in my future, I run to inhabit it at hthe first glimpse, and I live there until it passes me by. Disappointment is one of the strongest-feeling emotions I have; disappointment and anticipation. The phrase is 'two sides of the same coin'.

This is a long way of saying, I get to meet Graham at the bus station tonight.