It’s another one of those internet question things except the questions keep changing. My questions were offered up by the lovely and kind Lily!
These are the rules:
* If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying ‘Interview Me’.
* I then will respond by asking you five questions – each person’s will be different. I’ll post the questions in the comments section of this post. Be patient, I may be on my camping trip or dead from a bear, but if we’ve learned anything in the last few months, it’s that you can indeed post from the wilderness.
* You then will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
* You will include this explanation and offer to interview others in the same post.
* When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
* Last, but not least (and this is my rule, it doesn’t have to be repeated) my family members are exempt. I’m not asking my mom or April or anyone else in my family any probing questions. Sorry guys, I’m just not up for it.
1)Describe the moment in your life in which you have felt the most vulnerable, and how did you handle such feeling.
This question is hella hard, not just because it dredges up memories, but because it is so freshly painful to me. As you know, I broke up with my girlfriend of 10 1/2 years last year. We had intended to remain friends, but it didn’t happen and I think there’s a Venn diagram of blame being designed right now that is so immense and far reaching that most humans will not be able to comprehend it all. Suffice to say, there were a lot of reasons why we could not remain friends.
Anyway, on with the vulnerability.
I had one of those tough childhoods that you read about in case studies, or see on Lifetime Television for Women. Abusive father, delinquency, foster homes, broken bones, running away, drugs, fear and eventually survival. As Chris Onstad puts it, I come from circumstances. I don’t share most of the details with people, they’re unnecessary, no one really needs to know them. They make people uncomfortable at some level but also they are a part of me that when exposed, bruises on contact. Most people know as much as I have said here, my friends know slightly more, a few people know details and very very few people know exactly what I had to go through. It wasn’t tragic, it wasn’t dramatic, it was grueling and it was damaging.
But I survived because that’s what you do.
My ex, someone who I had known for almost 16 years knew as much as I’d ever told anybody. We met as teenagers when I was in the midst of it all.
After the break up she began dating someone I knew. Over time she revealed to him all of this information. I could not begin to answer why, I really don’t know. That wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was logging on to my computer and seeing this information being revealed publicly by him. It was a horrid experience, not so much to see myself exposed like that, but to know that the longest trustworthy human connection I had ever made was, in fact, not trustworthy.
I wanted to kick myself for trusting anyone at all, I hated myself for being so stupid as to reveal to someone stuff that I did not want shared. How could I be so stupid? But that’s just it, I hadn’t been stupid. Over 16 years you develop a relationship with somebody, you know that person. You can’t predict how that person will change. I don’t believe she stored this information in order to use it against me, I think she just happened to be at the door when opportunity knocked.
When I confronted her, I got some sort of “well, you know I can’t control him” excuse. It was too much. The nonchalance of the situation turned me upside down with exposure and vulnerability. This woman who had known me as well as I had known her was not protecting me as I felt she was obligated to. I was angry for a very long time. I plotted revenge, so sweet. But, reason comes bubbling to the surface and you remember that revenge is never worth it. Every person’s life is as joyful or as miserable as they allow it to be. She would be her own success or unraveling without my help or hindrance.
There was not much more to be said or done. My ribcage had been cracked open for the amusement of a few. I’m again more guarded, I am suspicious of questions and only answer what I have to. I’m vague on details. I dodge and duck and change the subject.
And I smile, because I know the worth of me.
2) Imagine you had the chance of making one of any of the wackiest, craziest dreams you’ve ever had come true. Which one would you choose and why?
I know this dream, I know it well. It’s not crazy or wacky and the situation is rarely the same. I have this dream a lot.
I have very vivid dreams, many of them are manifestations of vivid emotions. I dream of great sadness or intense anger. I have had dreams where I wake up screaming or crying or laughing.
I have a recurring dream that I am deeply in love with someone who loves me just as deeply. The situation is usually different, but always the love. One instance, corny as ever, found me on a beach with a person of no discernible identity. I remember the orangey- yellow of my dream sunset as we sat with his arms around me. We didn’t talk, we didn’t move, nothing of note happened in the dream save that this person whose face I will never know, sat with his arms around me and I have never in my life felt so in love with a person.
I had never felt so loved.
It was over as quickly as it happened, they often are. I woke up feeling hugely contented and yet saddened. It wasn’t a real love, it wasn’t something that any person could ever achieve, this emotional orgasm that would run through my body and dissipate as easily a one blinks away sleepiness.
I don’t want that to be a dream, though, I want to feel that emotion again, for real. I don’t want it to not exist. I want to feel this mythical emotion for real.
3) Has there ever been a time in which you lost all hope, and were about to give up? What did you do to get out of the rut? (or are you still on it)
Honestly, I sat down and looked up suicide methods on the internet. I became very proactive about doing something about the state I was in, but I discovered that taking control of the situation pushed me up over the edge again. I took control of things and I was empowered in some way.
I found my footing again, the hope came back, the urge to end it all vanished.
Bizarre, but easy all the same.
4) Who is the public person you would like to meet, for what reasons, and what would you talk about if given the chance?
I honestly don’t know.
I have musicians I like, Mike Doughty for one, but I met him once and was reminded that it’s pretty hard to carry a conversation with someone you don’t actually know. I mean you can ask about their music, or tell them they’re cool, but then what?
Alton Brown would be better, we could talk about cooking. I could ask him questions about technique or ingredients or whatever.
I don’t know. I am sure there are a million intelligent options, Mark Twain or Betsy Ross or Attila the Hun or Paris Hilton or Kofi Annan. Really, though, I’d rather just meet new friends.
5) We have already settled that you are a dog person. If you were to come back as one in your next life, what breed would you be and why?
I’d be my Ghengis dog! Half dachshund, half shar-pei, all happy demeanor, compact body, goofy, charming happiness.
Of course, I just want to come back as my own dog. Totally spoiled and loved and happy. You should see them now, curled up and content. Happy doogles!
there
Done, I wrote a lot. More than I had to in places, less than I should have in others. So, go ahead and respond in the comments. We’ll see how this goes.

Okay, instead of using this space to talk about my retarded handling of my retardedness, I’ll just ramble on about what I heard on NPR tonight.
They were talking about the people who bury the unclaimed in Iraq. People are being killed all the time in Bagdad and for the most part their bodies are immediately claimed by their families and given a proper burial.
During Saddam’s regime, when political prisoners were tortured and killed, if no one came to claim the bodies, they were thrown into a pit for dogs to eat. A man saw this and knew it was wrong. He put together a group and they went to the morgues and started claiming the unclaimed bodies. They gave them a proper and respectful burial. He does this for no charge.
He said he had hoped with Saddam gone his activities would decrease or even cease. He was wrong. His work has increased ten-fold as suicide bombings and sniper attacks and kidnappings and beheadings and all that increase. He takes all unclaimed bodies regardless of religion or sect. He takes them all because they all deserve a proper burial. They deserve repsect even in death.
He even takes the bodies of the suicide bombers. He makes no distinction, he buries them all in the cemetery, even those who we would say do not deserve it. He is poor, living in Bagdad’s slums. He does this because his religion teaches him that you never allow a dead body to be defiled, not even that of a dog’s. He does it because regardless of what a person has done, they are still human and they deserve at least that much respect.
I want to have that respect in my heart. I want to be able to say “you have done terrible things but still i would do for you a charitable thing”. I wish I could be that person. I wish I could say, “you wronged me, you did this thing to me, still I hold you dear. I will give you what ou need”.
At the very least, most of the people I treat with neutrality. Very few are ever looked upon with enmity. I have much to learn from those people. They are the ones I need to reconcile. One day at least.

There is much happiness in my heart right now. maybe it has to do with Cupcake, maybe it has to do with forgiveness, maybe it just has to do with bheebhoobheebhoo. I don’t know.
I feel lighter. I feel happier.
I want to write about Ethiopian food and pms and new dog collars and sunburn and camping.
Maybe later.
I’ll leave you with this…
When i say ‘Jetsy’ you say ‘Zitron’
Jetsy!