Posted on | August 9, 2013 | 2 Comments
Hi, again. It’s me, Juliet DiCaprio.
Anyway, you all will be happy to know that coming here last week to blog really did wonders for my month-long bout of writer’s block. Thank you for being my audience of asses.
I’m right back on my horse-high pile of submissions & chapbooks & screenplays like it’s my own private rodeo, and I couldn’t have done it w/out Y’ALL!!!
Y’ALL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay!!!!!!!
*crickets, frogs, tumbleweeds, centipedes*
But…of course…some of y’all are very ANGRY
that I dared to compare self-abuse (craziness) to being held captive by a crazy person (horrible, tragic).
I don’t blame you for misunderstanding. I know a few of you have been on the receiving end of abuse from a crazy person. So you know what that is like. I do too.
But I don’t know very many of you who have been trapped with a self that will get so angry at itself it will beat bruise & slice itself. A self that will be so disappointed & feel so inferior that it will cause great pain & scarring to itself. You don’t know what that is like.
It is like being abused by someone else. It is like being a dungeon, not being in one.
But look—I understand your upsetness. It seems to you that abusing one’s self is a CHOICE one makes, and being held captive by a stranger is not a choice.
I assure you that…hurting one’s self is beyond choosing. Trust me…I did not want to be the weirdo w/ all the self imposed scars. It just happened that way.
But I am not sooooo crazy & self-absorbed & unaccountable that I understand this is a rather glorified comparison to make. Of course being held captive by a real flesh & blood male human w/ testosterone & strength is worse than being held captive by some internal male entity who wants to destroy you.
If I had to make a list—and now I do—of what horrors lie in between those two things, it would look like this:
1) Being held captive [10 yrs] by a flesh & blood male human with testosterone & strength
2) Being eaten by a boa constrictor in your sleep
3) Being swallowed in your bed by a sinkhole
4) Being tazed to death for doing graffiti
5) Dying in (or surviving) an airplane crash
6) Being greeted enthusiastically by tarantulas in any small enclosed space
7) Being abused by an internal male entity who wants to destroy you (& having to go out in the world & pretend you’re normal & happy)
8) Dying (period)
9) Public speaking
10) Being sold AmWay
So you see, the two things fall on the Top Ten List of worst things ever. NOT that I’m ranking & policing pain here!
No way—I’d never do that.
I hope that clears up any misunderstanding and you can go about your happy lives. I sure have. And don’t worry—I will never, never, ever, ever write any stories about my worst years ever—I learned what I needed from my other stories about those worst years & I don’t need you to witness them.
*crickets, frogs, tumbleweeds, centipedes, octopi, jellyfishum, seahorsii, lemurs, yaks, and screaming pixillations*
All right my darling Asses….I probably will be too busy writing & watching Top Model Season #20 (with girl AND boy models!) to blog for awhile.
Enjoy the silence.