I know you have been waiting for part 12 and I promise to get it to you, but the next few pieces are hard to write because it’s hard to remember. This is both literal, as in the events that took place, and figuratively. What I do remember of it is painful mentally. So I took some time off to face that chapter of my life.
In the meantime, I wish to relate a simple idea. I was thinking the other day of an ex I had. He was trying to save the world, but was limited in how many he could save. For all I know, he still is. He would have multiple girls and take care of all their needs (well except me because he was sick of my ass but that is for another day) kind of like how a gardener takes care of a tulip bed. He tried to put me in his garden of flowers…his girls. The ones he would spoil with lavish gifts, trips, clothes, and provide their every need.
I am not a tulip. I am not even a dandelion like I thought…you know Dandelions are very good for you and will grow through everything even if they aren’t the prettiest flower. I always say Be A Dandelion, because they are so tenacious. A dandelion will thrive in a garden just as well as in a sidewalk crack though. That is not me…I can not share a bed with many girls for my partners sake.
The truth is I am more like a spiderwort. They thrive in the woodlands and shade. As soon as they get too much sun, the spiderwort will die back. However, they can also be cultivated indoors in their own pot out of direct sun. You will never see a garden bed full of spiderworts in the full sun. Unfortunately, my ex didn’t realize I was a spiderwort and treated my like any common garden variety flower or girl. I needed individual attention, my own space, and to be out of the spotlight. I needed to be treated as a special flower with special needs, not what every other flower wants.
Just like the spiderwort, I too survived some radiation. I also change dramatically when danger is near. Spiderworts turn pink when radiation is on the land. It’s like nature’s Geiger counter. I have eyes that change colors depending on the situation. My entire personality changes depending on the situation. I blend in well where ever I am because I like to stay in the shade. My ex never understood that part of me, because he grew up in the spotlight. Being out of it was the last thing he could imagine someone would want because everyone told him how lucky he was to be in the spotlight. I guess he started to believe it and just wanted to share that with me a little bit.
Well, anyway I have covered my tracks well…and all my creative works are not attributed to me. They aren’t even attributed to my previous name. I do not exist as a creator. Sure on this blog, but previous to this I did major things that no one will ever know for certain about, but someone caught my scent. What do I mean?
I have a bunch of work in the public that are attributed to various different artists or have no mention at all on certain things. This spans about 20 years of work actually. I often bemoan this, but also appreciate the anonymity I have. I don’t recall if I got paid for the work, but it was most certainly NOT in my legal name…my creative names probably. Anywho…someone is putting two and two together. They are collecting my works and putting them together just based on the creative energy in them. I was shocked. The coolest thing about all of this is that their commentary is SPOT ON about what I was thinking or feeling when I was making or doing a particular work. They don’t even know that the works are by the same person…and they can read my creative energy like a book.
It’s like a love letter from the universe.
I am probably more stoked about the fact that some random person in France, that doesn’t even speak English can pick out my poetry, my film work, and my music work and put it all together in a video saying they all seem to click even if the music came out twenty years earlier than the film work did than anything ever. It’s like “Holy shit, someone actually gets me.” It is the coolest feeling when you spent your life feeling like an animal unwanted by the human race instead of a human being.
It makes my little spiderwort self feel valued and appreciated because someone noticed my individuality even though it was cloaked in layers of lies. That kind of recognition takes love for the creative energy with in the work and that is truly the most beautiful gift I have ever been given.