Life as an Extreme Sport

semiotics on flesh

I am a study in signs right now. (Well, not right now – right now I’m a study in “oh fucking hell it’s too late in the year to be this muggy and hot!”) Everything I put on seems to have meaning, of some sort or another. Rubber bracelet with pithy slogan, stamped and brushed silver bracelet, ring, mala, pendant, locket – even earrings. Small bits of meaning woven into each, almost charmlike. The impulses to wear give some insight into the idea that having something that belonged to another gives you some power, over event, item, person. Tangible connections, ties that bind.


It has come to my attention that some people think I am, perhaps, upset, frustrated, and/or otherwise angry and disappointed with/at them. Some people should stop being stupid. Or come talk to me. Actually, both would be best.

I will be the first to stand up and admit I have issues with trusting. Take those issues, add in the utter fear of vulnerability which stems directly from having issues with trust, and you get – well, me. Someone who has a very hard time putting herself in issues she perceives will make her vulnerable – where vulnerable can be read as “hurt by other’s actions.” It also gets you someone who talks about herself in third person, apparently,…

I was talking to one of my sanity points this morning, and admitted that it’s much easier to be angry at people than it is to be angry at something as intangible and insubstantial as cancer. There’s the perception that people have choices, could have done something differently, made other decisions – easier to be wronged by people than impotent in the face of the cancer taking my mother from me.

I need people, but I need my mother more. And there’s nothing anyone can do about the latter, nothing anger will do anything about or for. So I got angry at other people instead. Because it was easier to say “you didn’t do X, Y, Z, you don’t give a damn” and fall back into bad habits about trust and vulnerability and that secret conviction that I’m going to spin around to find everyone stabbing me in the back all at once, rather than see the empathy and care that was being offered.

I have every right to be frustrated and angry – but the frustration and anger were directed at the wrong sources. And if you were one of those people who got whalloped with my rage, I apologize. And we should probably talk, and smooth things over.