Turn and Face the Strange

I hate change. I’d rather stay in a bad situation than risk that things are going to be different. Even good changes freak  me out.  If my routine changes even a tiny bit, I forget to do important things like taking my medicine.  It just slides out of my head. I’ve tried alarms on my phone, being mindful, etc, and it all just slips away.

Change is in my top five fears, after zombies and before talking to strangers. My current hierarchy of fears goes: dead birds, dead other things, zombies, change, strangers, embarrassing myself, dying before I accomplish my dreams, butterflies, wild animals, domesticated animals. You know. Pretty standard fears.

My siblings are busy being incredible.  My sister is married with a baby, moving into a bigger house today.  My brother is moving to Orlando for an awesome hotel job today.  It means that growing up is on my mind.  I’m being incredible in my own way, except it’s a quiet way, without much change.

My niece is a great change. It took me a bit to get used to my sister being pregnant, but I’m utterly in love with my niece, so I know that scary change can be good. Every time the Doctor regenerates I think I’ll never love the next Doctor as much, but I do.  When I move, I feel like things will never be the same, but I eventually forget what it felt like to walk old halls. I forget that my friends looked any different than they did before they got haircuts. I acquire a new normal, even though it feels impossible at the time.  I reach equilibrium.

I know that I can’t stay where I am, the way I am, forever.  I’m trying to prepare myself for that, but it isn’t easy.  I want more than what I have.  I want things to be different without the pain of change, and that leaves me in a sort of stasis. Stasis can’t last.  I have to turn and face the strange.


Pokemon Theme Song with Adjusted Expectations

I wanna be kind of okay
like lots of people are.
I’m clumsy and I trip and sway;
I’m lazy and bizarre.

I will travel across the room
searching low and high.
I have to squint against the gloom;
at least I’m gonna try!

Pokemon, gotta catch like twelve!
(It’s you and me!)
I know there’s no guarantee.
Pokemon, oh, we’re sort of chums,
we run away when trouble comes.
Pokemon, gotta catch a few
Vague apathy!
A pinch of tired ennui.

I am such a nobody.
Gotta catch just seven.
Gotta catch just six.

Every battle in the nation
I’ll try and then back out.
I’m really bad at confrontation;
it’s not what I’m about.

Hey, let’s pause, I need a nap,
I’ve got to rest my head.
I’ll be out in a snap
with Snorlax as my bed.

Pokemon, gotta catch like five.
(It’s you and me!)
(And unresolved emotional debris!)
Pokemon, oh, I guess you’re cool,
as long as you don’t drool.
Pokemon, gotta catch just four!
And furthermore–
my back’s a little sore.

I guess that I must make due.
Gotta catch a few.
Gotta catch like three!
Gotta catch like two!
Gotta catch just one!

Pokemon Go

I spent years as a tomboy, desperately trying to fit in.  So I watched a lot of Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh, Dragon Ball Z (even as a kid, I was like, “Twelve episodes to power up?  What is this even”).

I never got into video games, because I’m basically a computer mouse on a serious tracking delay.  And if I ever played GTA, I’d probably just walk around offering the ladies money and a warm meal, and buying cars at the dealer, and not hitting anyone ever.  My favorite thing when my friends would play GTA would be to just listen to the radio stations in the cars they stole.

But I did learn to draw from Pokemon cards, and this game is bringing back old feelings of being a junior high nerdling in summer school gym so I wouldn’t have to take actual gym.  There was a boy I’d sit with on the bleachers, whenever I had the option to.  We’d draw diligently, copying the Pokemon from cards onto anything papery that we could get our hands on, from those brown paper towels they have in school bathrooms to notebook paper, our drawings made ridged and bumpy from the pebbled textures on the bleachers.  Pokemon cards were perfect for drawing because they could fit in our pockets and they were detailed.  He was encouraging. Kind.  And much, much more talented than me.

It was this, and a boy in elementary school who showed me how to draw 3-D houses and 2-D T-Rexes, that got me into art.  People thought he was weird.  I was also pretty weird.

I don’t remember much from being young.  My brain got rid of that to make room for more nonsense.  But I remember sitting on the bleachers, drawing with my friend. Or sitting in the lunchroom in elementary school, drawing with my  other friend, or sitting against the wall at recess, hunched over paper.  I remember what it was like to have a moment where hours of frustration spent drawing the wrong line distilled into clarity when it finally looked right.

I miss it.  I miss spending time with friends. I miss drawing, and being happy with what I drew.  I especially miss the feeling of Pokemon cards in my pocket.  But for once, I’m getting to go on the adventures I always imagined going on.  And I’m not pretending to like something so people would think I was cool, I actually like it.  And it doesn’t take twelve episodes for the Pokemon to just decide to freaking do something already.  Which helps.