How Shall I Explain? (Part Un of my String Theory Backstory)

Lukas asked for backstory on that String Theory Prayer thing you see I wrote a while back. I said I'd get to it as soon as I got home from being Oout and Aboout. But then I've been sick (coughing up green stuff, thanks for asking) for the past week and not exactly in a writing mood. But I'm getting to it now asbestos I can.

I do think I'm somewhat good at writing the dramatic and weary stuff, sometimes anyway. Not always. And sometimes I'm good at goofy, too. (Who am I kidding? I'm always good at goofy- it's an essential part of this nutritious breakfast I keep eating.) But every once in a while when I horrify myself and sometimes others by saying out loud how bad things really are- in fact really have been for way, way, way too long, I think hhmm, I wonder if I could describe joy as well? I mean could I do justice to the equal and opposite part of existence should it ever show up? And I think maybe I'm not much of a writer, really, if I can't describe joy and comfort as well as I dig into pain and weariness and grief. So, there you have that bit of my thought process laid out for you to consider. But I do get tired of being tired and being pained is a pain. Sometimes you just think tant pis and keep going.

Also, I have a fast brain. At least I do when Hashimoto's is not controlling my existence (there's a limit to the control I'll grant it anymore, actually.) But my brain jumps fastest of all when it gets to science for some reason. I mean it cross references as I'm reading/ hearing something (which is what it always does when I read/ hear anything) but then it starts jumping to the implications of what I'm reading/ hearing and cross referencing and then to further implications and further and further ones. This is fun. Why am I not trying to be a scientist or phsyicist of some sort, I ask you? I mean this is really fun. But then, drinking is fun, too, and I always wonder as I'm getting sloshed (upon the somewhat rare occasions that I do get sloshed with friends), why am I not an alcoholic, chasing this warm slide into peaceful one-thought-ness on a daily basis? Dunno. Maybe because there are too many thoughts I want to have and I can't afford to whittle things down to one all the time.

But I do know that when my brain jumps around realizing the implications of science stuff, it goes so quickly that it's difficult for me to hand out bite size pieces afterwards. I would actually have to go back and retrace my thinking or even more like re-think my thinking to drag somebody else along with me. I said to a friend (who is not only fast when it comes to mindliness but can also damn well explain what the whole thing was about every step of the way) that when it comes to science I understand it but I just can't speak about it. And he thought that was very funny because we'd both been raised in the same kind of church groups and growing up, saying that you just couldn't speak about something implied that you were holier than whoever and that your knowledge kind of elevated you above them over there. So, what I said smacked of that foolishness (even though it wasn't) plus it just cracked him up that I couldn't verbalize something which is actually verbalize-able. Especially for him. Good for him, I say. I like to make my friends laugh and if that has to happen at my expense from time to time, so be it.

Still, I am what I am. And sometimes my brain goes too fast, which is fun, but I can't speak about it. Or at least not well. Or easily. My handwriting says the same thing. Since kindergarten, it's been seriously twitchy because my brain moves too fast for my hand to keep up. Learning to type was a relief of sorts except that it then created this kind of o.c.d. outlet wherein I typed anything anybody said for a while. Maybe I was just practicing. Maybe I wasn't lulu at all. Maybe.

Anyhoo, forget the drinking and the writing/ typing and the laughing and let's get back to science. I'll try to speak about it.

(to be continued...)

Thanks, Lukas. This is inner life stuff. I start with one part "God is not a pooper" and add another part of particle physics/ quantum mechanics, throw in a splash of a grand (almost) unified theory and realize that I've got more power than I thought.
Part of "more" is mine. I aim at everybody I love.
Gimme dat,

H+P

String Theory Prayer

Hey, I remember back to when I was sad and weary and my needs weren't met- when I was isolated and undone.

And I remember forward to when you healed all of my diseases and made every dream I have come true and flooded my entire life with love and comfort and rest. And joy- did I forget to mention the joy? Or the peace like a buzzing river that rearranges me right down to my very molecules and sub-particles and more?

Oh, I remember back to when they were crushed and brutally re-arranged, when they were confused and could not find one calm way forward- when they were unloved and made ugly.

And I remember forward to when you loved them and healed them and comforted them and gave them rest- a rest which overtook their children and their parents and their friends and their lovers and spread out a thousand thousand miles all around their lives.

Because I remember back to when he lied and stole and killed and destroyed.

For this I remember forward to when you spoke truth which ended every lie, you gave back what was stolen and stole even more from that thief. I remember forward to when you killed his power to harm and confuse and crush, when you destroyed territories and abilities he'd built up over centuries, taking a million times what he took from your own. This is vengeance. I see how you get it done.

I remember back to when we cried and would not be comforted. Could not be. Inconsolable here with years of backbreaking work between us and joy, between us and free choice.

And I remember forward to when you said hey, ain't nothin' but a thang. Here, I'll trade you beauty for those ashes and how about joy for your mourning? Sound fair? Never mind that timeline. This thing has already been done. Darling, you still just don't get how you are loved.

So now I sit in peace in the center of every time that ever was or is or ever more shall be. Nothing is lost. Nothing is lost. There is no striving here. I'm loved. I'm done. I needed this. I was made for this.

I like this time better than that other one before. Thanks, You. You're a good egg, God, and I don't mind saying it.

Angel or Spike?

Well, I know the answer to that one. Spike is magnetic on my fridge. This is because a good friend who is older (and therefore wiser, I swear), shares my addiction to Buffy and Angel re-runs and sent me the magnet after we bravely and enthusiastically discussed the love which dares not speak its name. Honestly, I do wonder at grown women groovin' on a couple of shows which were aimed at young (very young) girls- maybe boys, too? Not sure of the intended demographics, but needless to say, I have been caught in that net and I've got good company.

Anyhoo, I like the writing. Maybe it's because I used to be a respected boohonkas kicker "...and now I'm a wounded dwarf with the mystical power of a doily." And, no, you probably don't get it. You don't get that or why James Marsters is the only male on television who has me rewinding my TiVo to hear him say something again. And, YES, that's kind of sad, but I'm all for honest acceptance of my crushes when I've got them. (And I do got them- one or more of them back burnered at almost all times. Multitasking as only a woman can.) And, of course, I never want to meet him in real life. I have a feeling if I like a character I'd probably really dislike the actor who created it- not sure, of course, but it's my theory and I'm sticking to it. So, I'll never go to some damn sci-fi convention and try to get an autograph like (more of) an idiot (than I already am.) I'll never buy his band's CD or attend one of their shows, if I can help it. (Have another theory that if I like a character, I'd definitely hate the band that actor is in.) No, I like my fiction left fictional fo' sho'.

Have heard some conservative/ Christian types complain about the occult, and etc., stuff in these shows. Which has me scratching my head, I guess, because Christianity is a religion which absolutely accepts the reality of the demonic and even expects that power plays will definitely occur between good and evil. And then there's the little fact that fiction is meant to have layers of meaning. A vampire isn't just a vampire. Maybe a vampire isn't a vampire at all. Maybe a spell is about an abusive relationship and breaking free of that. Maybe this whole nonsense about "the slayer" is about girls choosing to be strong. (Wow, I shouldn't have to spell that one out.) And on and on. But, mainly, since I'd internalized these messages long ago, in a galaxy not that far away, I just end up watching it for entertainment purposes.

Which reminds me (in a kind of non-sequitur way) of Hayden Christensen. Life As A House, people. I don't even think that crush was appropriate, but there you have it. I never said I was trying to make good sense (or that my attention was constant.) I don't know about the rest of you crazy M.F.ers, but I'd TiVo him.

Anytime.