"I fell down some steps"

I fell down some steps.

People are very curious about this. Why? Is it like watching a train wreck? So the fuck what! Who the fuck cares! I fell down some steps. Big deal.

I fell down a whole flight of steps. The very first step on my cheap second, that is top, floor, of my cheap apartment, my foot didn't catch on that little metallic thingie/edge, that would have had me slide down face first on my belly down the steps, no: my heel landed exactly where it would slide, skid over the top of that metal thingie, and I spend a whole flight trying to catch hold of anything as I screamed, "oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" as my whole body tensed itself, trying to save itself from this unremitting agony, until I finally did flip over and land on the floor with my face -- BANG! -- and cried and cried and cried until some nice Korean people from the ground floor came rushing out with their cell phones calling emergency.

Boy, did I scream then! I screamed that I was okay, and I wasn't hurt, and I was okay, and I dragged my sorry ass back up those self-same steps back to my tiny, shitty, oops I meant: 'efficiency' place and pull the covers over my head and went to sleep and didn't wake up for a day. A whole day.

Why was I going out?

Well, when your girlfriend tells you she wants to be friends now, and she wasn't your girlfriend, she was the reason you were alive for a whole year, and ...

Well, I was a little ... euphoric ... from emotion, so I decided to self-medicate. Alcohol is a depressant, you see, so I could be back on an even keel after a few drinks. The dive they call a restaurant/bar in our little dive town has 'happy' hour where they serve mixed drinks for one dollar.

By the way: I'm a cheap date. One beer, and I'm drunk. A few drinks? You ever read Salinger? He wrote Sappho's poem: "Raise High the Roofbeams, Carpenters!" as only he could write it. THAT's what'd happen to me. What happened to Buddy after one, very strong, Tom Collins.

Yeah, I was going to self-medicate, then maybe cross the street, and maybe this time God wouldn't stop that oncoming truck, and then everybody's problems would be solved, and it wouldn't even be a suicide, it'd just be some stupid fucking drunk girl crossing the street, crushed under a moving van.

Happens every day.

So, God might've taken preemptive measures, again, on my sorry ass, and had one angel push me down the stairs, and ... but it was okay, I was fine, because the floor caught my fall.

I had a big black and blue shiner that screamed 'SPOUSE ABUSE!' for any and all on-lookers for a few days.

And, well, tensing up like that, and having stair after stair hit tensed muscles like that.

And my tailbone.

Yes, my pride was injured, but then, I couldn't walk for a day, and then running? jogging?

I tried, but I couldn't the pain was general: all over my body, and then 'specific': like, super intense in my neck and back. It was fine walking, but when I tried to push myself, even a little bit, I saw stars through my tears.

And the bruises on my knees and hips.

But why didn't I go (back) to the hospital?

"I fell down some steps."

I fell down some steps.

Yeah, right.

How many times a day do the orderlies hear that lie? In Fight Club, you know: the movie that Saga quoted the 'I haven't been fucked like that since grade school' line, the protagonist used that line, that lie, to justify his beatings, on himself.

In 'Fried Green Tomatoes,' there was some falling down some steps, right, Ruth? But it was because her husband pushed her down them, and she almost lost her baby that way.

And let's not forget the best seller, 22 million copies at last count a few years ago, where Alice DID fall down some steps and crash through a window to cover up the fact that Bella was tortured by James, ... remember how he snapped her leg in half? ... so that she and Edward could live happily ever after?

Stairs, and falling down them, cover up a whole host of sins, of evils.

"I fell down some steps."

I go to the hospital, and say that line, and you know what they would think, and you know what they would do. And they I would have the police over at my house, and more people would be in my life, in my shit, and see just another example of an aborted abortion: poor white trash just taking up space, living in the ghetto.

You know what 'ghetto' is? No, it's not where (now) the Koreans live. It's not where the Black lived in Harlem. No, it's where the Nazis gathered the Jews ...

... collecting them, so they could exterminate them.

And the questions they would ask: "Please give the name of your cohabitating partner. Has he assaulted you before?" He? HE? HE?

Or: "What are the names of your parents? Are you house sitting here? Have you been disciplined by them before this badly? What high school do you go to? Wait: did you graduate grade school yet?"

Yeah: I fell down some steps.

Oh, but I'm fine now. You know why: because I didn't go to the hospital, and have a police report filed against me: Jane Doe, poor white trash, so nobody knows that I can't pay the rent, that I can't go out with the gang from work for lunch, cause I can't pay with credit card and I don't have cash, and if I lose my fare card, I don't have cash to get a bus ride then catch the metro rail, then catch the next bus: two and a half hours to get to work, two and a half hours to get home to get paid a 'fuck me up the ass, boss' secretary's pay that doesn't pay the rent, so, no I don't go to sbux anymore for that $4.25 cup of coffee I don't have the money to buy.

You see: I'm fine. Nobody knows about me; nobody cares, so I can just be a little mouse, shivering in the barn; getting by.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

So, now, when I go down the steps, what I don't do is this: I don't check my email on my phone, I'm not getting any I need to read, like when I needed to read the email when Saga sent it. I don't think thoughts that cloud my sight. Like nearly every thought I think to myself and how I deserve this life I'm living, and I don't even deserve that. No, I grasp firmly on the rail with one hand, and hold the wall with the other, and nudge out my foot, reach out to that first step, and then I tentatively rest my foot on the first step, testing to see whether I rest there, or if I go flying, high as a kite, bonk-bonk-bonk, all the way down.

If I rest there, nobody comes running out their doors, nobody notices. Nobody cares. Nothing to care about.

Being noticed, falling, flying down a flight of stairs, get you noticed, and being noticed ...

I'm tired, and it's not even noon yet. This writing stuff. Wheee! So fun!

And a little tiny voice just now, just fucking right now, whispered in my head: "Saga noticed you."

I have to go to the bathroom now. I don't want my coworkers seeing me crying. They might notice.

Liebst du um Schönheit by Friedrich Rückert

Liebst du um Schönheit by Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866)

Liebst du um Schönheit,
O nicht mich liebe!
Liebe die Sonne,
Sie trägt ein gold'nes Haar!

Liebst du um Jugend,
O nicht mich liebe!
Liebe den Frühling,
Der jung ist jedes Jahr!

Liebst du um Schätze,
O nicht mich liebe.
Liebe die Meerfrau,
Sie hat viel Perlen klar.

Liebst du um Liebe,
O ja, mich liebe!
Liebe mich immer,
Dich lieb' ich immerdar.

— phfina commentary.

Okay, here's my translation (deep breath):

If you love me for beauty, don't love me.
Love the sun, for her golden hair!

If you love me for my youth, don't love me,
Love the Spring, it's young every year.

If you love me for my money, don't love me.
Love the mermaid, she has clear pearls.

But if you love me for Love. O, yes, love me.
Love me for ever, and I'll love you forever, too.

Okay, here's my take:

God, this is so beautiful! And Mahler's setting to music? I'm crying, just listening to it (à propos de rein I just so love lieder! I'm feeling a little melty right now ... TMI? Oh, well). And the thing is this. Do you love me? Why? 'cause I'm pretty? 'cause I'm young? 'cause I'm (not) rich? (yet)

Honey, all of these things are temporal and shallow! They will pass, you know? "For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health 'til death do us part."

But do you love me because you love me? O ja, mich liebe! Lieber mich immer and I will love you forever, too.

I can't help that. Can you get that? I still love Julia; I will always love her. Yes, she gave me my heart back, but she had it for a while. So did Cate, so did Brenda, so did ... and the list goes on ... and if you love me, truly love me, so do you. You have my heart, my love: always.

So, if you love me for this or for that, guess what? I'm so going to smell that! You think you can hide anything from me, or from yourself? I know I can't hide anything from you, I'm really bad at hiding from just myself. You love me for something, I'll know. And, on top of that, then this or that that you love me for passes away. You love me because I'm weak and sad? Well, I'm strong and happy and fierce today. You love me because I'm young ... well, I'm gonna be old and wrinkled soon ... and that soon will be today before we know it. You love me cause I'm a smart little thing and write all this neat stuff? Well, guess what, I say more stupid things when I open my mouth than anybody else I know (so I tend to keep my mouth shut and be really, really shy ... unless I'm being a real b!tch). You love me because I'm pretty? How shallow is that? Every person is beautiful, but I think I'm only beautiful when I'm loving and I'm loved, and loved not because (of this or that) but loved just because.

And if you love me like that, if you love me no matter what, if you look into my soul and see me exactly as I am, and exactly as I'm not, and love me anyway, not 'because,' but 'anyway' ...

... then, in the face of that love, I am helpless but to love you back, and oh, what love! You love me regardless of the fact that I'm a b!tch or that I'm sweet. You love me regardless of the fact that I'm a proud prowling panther or a scared little mouse. You love me. Regardless. And I cannot but help to love you, and to love you as (toppy) George Sand loved Chopin (so! the fem) — she told him: "I am not full of virtues and noble qualities. I love. That is all. But I love strongly, exclusively and steadfastly" (quoted from the movie Impromptu).

You know what? I just realized something. Bella, in my stories, loves Rosalie that way. Regardless. Regardless of her external façade of cold beauty, regardless of her black soul. Regardless. And in my counter-story, Bloodbuzz Rosalie loves Bella that way. Regardless. Regardless of her fatalism, regardless of her atrocities. Regardless.

You know what 'regardless' means? It means 'blindly.' "Love is blind"? No. Love sees the other person clearly, exactly as they are, and exactly as they are not, and still loves: "strongly, exclusively, steadfastly."

I'm not asking you to love me. I'm not. But I do ask this: if you do choose to love me, love me.

Why is Bella such a ... kitty?

So I received a review of chapter 4 of my story Monsters. The review asked where Bella's backbone had gone.

That's a good question, if you look at it from Rosalie's perspective, as this is the perspective from which the story is told.

It's a good question that perhaps most of fandom asks. Why is Bella such a pussy/wuss/disgrace to feminism? Yeah, why!

Okay, the thing about Bella. Well, you have to be careful about the perspective in the story. This is a first person point-of-view story from Rosalie's perspective, so we see Bella as Rosalie sees Bella, as this weak little indecisive girl, right?

But what is actually going on in this chapter? Bella stood up for what she wanted to do, against Rosalie, and what happened? Rosalie backed down. Not Bella. So why isn't the question 'why is Rosalie so weak?' instead?

It's because of the perspective.

If you look at what Bella says and what Bella does, not what Rosalie is thinking about all this, do you see that the behaviors Bella is exhibiting are consistent with the Twilight books?

I think my writing is doing something that most readers don't expect: I honor the characters. Bella is like Bella is, but instead of making her OOC ("Out Of Character"), I honor her for what and for who she is.

And to me, Bella is strong. She is so, so strong. Here is a girl who is in the world of vampires and werewolves. I don't think you get that. If you did, you would see that there is absolutely nothing Bella can do in any situation. In every case, she could be torn to shreds by one creature or another, even by mistake. I mean, she broke her hand on Jacob's chin, and he didn't even feel a thing. And the bloodlust? She cuts her finger and she clears the house of the family she loves and who loves her.

Because if she didn't clear the house, she would be supper.

Bella is helpless, trapped, powerless.

BUT!

But she still demands that she be treated as a person, not even as an equal, but just as somebody you just can't step on. Could they step on her? Sure. But she demands that they don't. And do they listen to her? Edward didn't. She had to say 'I'm going to go insane here if you don't ...' before he would even think only of what he thought was best for her (which would have ended up with her being Victoria's supper, no doubt there at all).

In this chapter, Rosalie could say: no, you're doing the project. And what could Bella do? Cry like a baby? Give in? She did neither. She stood for what she wanted and she made Rosalie accept that.

AND she was still entirely sweet, shy, humble Bella doing it. Rosalie let her, yes. Rosalie had to let her, and that's why Rosalie is Rosalie, and not Edward. After all, Rosalie is the only Twilight character who didn't walk all over Bella but listened to her and respected her wishes. No, more than that: stood by Bella. The only one.

But even if Rosalie were Edward, Bella would still prevail. And why?

Because Bella is Bella. And that's all she's got going for her. She knows this, down to her bones, down to her marrow: Bella is 'just' Bella, and Bella is all she's got, the only thing she's got in this crazy mixed-up topsy-turvy world. She knows this: that she has this one thing, herself.

And that's one more thing that she has than what most of the rest of the people in this world have.

Bella is Bella in this chapter, and I am so, so proud of her for being just that here, and always.