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May. 7th, 2002 11:25 pmI wonder, sometimes, why I'm so remote/opaque. For example, I was talking with Lyddy at Minicon, when I was really down in the dumps. And right out of the chute, she absolutely nails a large part of why I was so miserable. And I dissemble, and talk sideways past the issue, and probably/possibly divert her attention past that fact. Although we did spend a lengthy period of time talking about some of the other issues that were getting me down.
Or Sunday, at dinner. The conversation somehow winds around to "How old were you when you lost your virginity?" The person starting the subject was seventeen. The other person at the table was fifteen. And I, when asked, reply "Not fifteen". Which was a glib non-response. And it did hide the fact that, in order to answer the question, I'd have to put a considerable amount of effort into trying to figure our how old I was when it happened (I spent the effort later - it was after my first year at college, and before my first marriage. My best guess is nineteen). I suppose that guardedness derives, as so many of my quirks do, from the seminal time in my life when life, as I knew it, changed forever. Which is an overly dramatic way of describing what happened when General Olds retired, and the Air Force personnel office discovered that my father had been stationed at one location for nearly ten years. I went from being a normal Southern California suburban kid to the perennial outsider. Almost ten years of being just like all my friends, followed by eight months in this strange land called Brookline (my first encounter with unreasoning hatred. I made the mistake of wearing an orange shirt on St. Patrick's Day. It meant nothing to me, but apparently it meant a great deal to the toughs who chased me for a mile or so. I've not been very sympathetic to certain flavors of overt Irish display since). And then, transplanted to a foreign country (France), and an even more foreign culture (military brat culture). I think I spent most of my tenth summer in the base library, where I chanced to pick up (and read) Stranger In A Strange Land (chosen largely because the title reflected how I felt at the time). That's also where I first encountered Spiderman, and Marvel comic books, starting an addiction that lasted until 1987.
I seem to have wandered far afield from whence I started. The one constant in my life since that time is that, while I can sort of blend in almost anywhere, I never really fit anywhere.
Or Sunday, at dinner. The conversation somehow winds around to "How old were you when you lost your virginity?" The person starting the subject was seventeen. The other person at the table was fifteen. And I, when asked, reply "Not fifteen". Which was a glib non-response. And it did hide the fact that, in order to answer the question, I'd have to put a considerable amount of effort into trying to figure our how old I was when it happened (I spent the effort later - it was after my first year at college, and before my first marriage. My best guess is nineteen). I suppose that guardedness derives, as so many of my quirks do, from the seminal time in my life when life, as I knew it, changed forever. Which is an overly dramatic way of describing what happened when General Olds retired, and the Air Force personnel office discovered that my father had been stationed at one location for nearly ten years. I went from being a normal Southern California suburban kid to the perennial outsider. Almost ten years of being just like all my friends, followed by eight months in this strange land called Brookline (my first encounter with unreasoning hatred. I made the mistake of wearing an orange shirt on St. Patrick's Day. It meant nothing to me, but apparently it meant a great deal to the toughs who chased me for a mile or so. I've not been very sympathetic to certain flavors of overt Irish display since). And then, transplanted to a foreign country (France), and an even more foreign culture (military brat culture). I think I spent most of my tenth summer in the base library, where I chanced to pick up (and read) Stranger In A Strange Land (chosen largely because the title reflected how I felt at the time). That's also where I first encountered Spiderman, and Marvel comic books, starting an addiction that lasted until 1987.
I seem to have wandered far afield from whence I started. The one constant in my life since that time is that, while I can sort of blend in almost anywhere, I never really fit anywhere.
