I try to imagine how horrible it would be to lose my home, to have to pick and choose what I could carry away with me and what I would have to leave behind to be consumed by the fire. It's just so sad, and all of this because some maniac arsonist decided to set a fire for whatever f$%ked up reasons he came up with.
I'm so afraid of fire. I used to keep this like a secret jewel, hidden in my corset, tucked safely away from prying eyes, kept close against my chest. I was so afraid someone, the dreaded someone, would learn this about me and use it against me, set my house on fire to get even with me for what? I've always affected a sort of Brer Rabbit pose when it comes to the big fears, "I'm not afraid of fire at all, but please don't throw me into the water." The ocean, water, is my briar patch and fire is my true enemy. Interesting that I should love Burning Man so much with all it's blazing destruction of art, although when we burn the man I always cry for him.
I think fire is or can be beautiful. It's life giving, look at Survivor. I love to gaze into a flame and watch the colors, the blue and the orange, the fluid, oxygen licking way that it surges upwards, then sways back and forth, like a dance. Fire is sexy but that doesn't mean I'm going to start one and endanger people's lives.
I have more candles than anyone I know. I even have this gorgeous devotional prayer piece from a church with hundreds of little votives, drop a quarter in and you get to send a prayer heavenwards in the flickering flame of a candle. I also love campfires and I think fireplaces are incredibly romantic. I love to fall asleep by the sight, the sound, and the warmth of a crackling fire, but I hate smoke.
I HATE SMOKE! Smoke makes me feel panicked. It prickles my skin and stings my eyes. Smoke makes my whole body hurt. I feel allergic to it, it reeks of death, decay and dust. Smoke makes me want to run or turn on whoever is causing it.
You know how some people have a very visceral reaction to certain sights and scents. I react badly to the smell of burning hair and skin. It's always made me think I might have lived a life during the Holocaust, which could explain my extreme empathy for survivors and their stories, for my affinity with Jewish people and Judaism, why as I child I delighted in our pretend seders at Catholic school where we drank grape juice and ate matzo while waiting for the angel of death to pass overhead. On the other hand I think a lot of Catholic school girls feel an affinity with all things separate and forbidden, want to learn about and play with kids from a religion so close and yet so totally different, it's compelling. Perhaps this is why I've always been attracted to Jewish men -- my first boyfriend was Jewish and come to think of it, heh, so is my Scott, sexy, sexy, Scott.
BTW I think the movie Stolen Summer, the movie Matt Damon, Ben Affleck and Miramax's Project Greenlight team put out is a terrific movie, and even though it tanked at the box office, I couldn't recommend it more highly. It is the sweetest story about two families, well, two little boys and their families. One of the boys is an Irish Catholic, whose Daddy, played by the wonderful Aidan Quinn, is a hero firefighter, and the other is Jewish with a terrifically decent rabbi Dad played by the awesome Kevin Pollak. I don't want to spoil the plot but the boys become friends and well, I just loved it, despite it's minor production flaws.
I remember a movie I saw when I was little about a woman whose little girl recovers memories of having burned to death in a car in a past life. Aha! I found it. It's called Audrey Rose and it had Anthony Hopkins and Marsha Mason in it. There was this one super upsetting scene where the little girl relives burning to death in a car. She's trapped in this car, banging on the glass and shrieking, "Hot, hot, hot!" We used to make fun of this scene when I was a teenager doing the, "Hot, Hot, Hot!" part every once in a while out of the blue just to be funny. But I remember that it affected me deeply at the time, still makes me sad today as I write this, and I wonder why -- why I'm even taking the time to write this when there is always so much to do...
Big loving hugs,
PS: Today I reached my third major goal post in my weight loss journey, and so far I have now lost a total of ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN POUNDS!!!! The exciting thing about this, for me, is that I have already landed within the goal weight range that my surgeon established for me before I had the surgery and I'm only seven months out. God how the time has flown by.
This means that I have already accomplished my medical weight loss goal and can join the goal weight group on obesityhelp.com. Wow! This isn't MY ultimate weight loss goal by any means, but it's exciting because I feel like I can lose a lot more if I just get behind the process, organize my eating a bit more, and get out there and exercise.
I'm really happy and excited, (despite the stress of my continuing money problems and ADD crap), because I haven't weighed this little, (even though I still want to say "this much"), since before Beau was born. Well, no, actually this was the weight I arrived at after doing the Grey Sheet HOW plan in OA and that was so many years ago that I can't even remember when it was.
I'm interested to see the special that 20/20 is doing, the one called Fat Like Me, where a film crew follows a young woman as she wears a fat suit and goes back to school acting as if she had gained this weight over the summer.
Okay I have got to stop writing and move on...
Isn't this just the sweetest painting? Blueberrymoon here on LJ did it.
BlueberryMoon has a link to her sweet art and a really great ghost picture that her parents took of her Grandmother's grave in Scotland, go see.