Fire and Water

I can't always tell the difference between real and imagined threats. In other words I have a heightened fight or flight reaction, or acute stress response if you want to be clinical, and my reaction is usually to fight or scream loudly. No one is sure exactly why but doctors suggested that during my mom's pregnancy was stressful and this triggered epigenetic switches to enhance genetic anxiety that would otherwise be within the normal range. For example, the first time I took a shower I got some water in my eyes and I felt like I was dying and totally freaked out. Whereas when my little brother Carl got water in his eyes for the first time, it was uncomfortable but once it was wiped out no big deal. It gets really bad if I'm tired and hungry. And I hate sleeping. I mean, it's not that I hate to sleep, I actually really like to sleeping, especially having funny or crazy dreams, but I hate going to sleep. It's so boring! There's always something more interesting to do than lying down doing nothing. I'm an intelligent person but I still haven't figured out how to make myself relax and go to sleep without screaming and crying. I think that gets my energy out because afterwards I do feel tired and can relax and let go.

A pretty bad time was on the plane to Taiwan. I don't know why it happens but something small can trigger me and I don't feel safe, even though I may be in an otherwise normal situation. I usually panic and start screaming. People on the plane didn't know why I was screaming bloody murder but they guessed it was because my parents abused me in some awful way. Actually, a lot of strangers probably think that. I just can't help it.

I love my brother Carl. He's my brother! He's usually pretty jovial and chuckles freely at my jokes. And sometimes he gets serious when he's interested and focuses on something. His hair is lighter brown and more frizzy than curly and his skin is darker but his facial features look more Western European, whereas I look like a specimen of my own race and country, maybe somewhere near Cyprus. My hair is a soft, curly brown and when I was young people couldn't resist to touch it and run their fingers through. I saw a Greek marble statue of a politician in the Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco and for some reason the hair really reminded me of my own. My skin is olive coloured you could say. I have extra long eyelashes my facial features are rounded. People thought I was a girl when I was young because I look pretty.


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I suggest as the next subject Last Night's Dream. The intent is to peek behind the red curtain of consciousness and create a fictionalized account of a dream, real or imagined, complete with unconscious associations and surreal absurdities. Or take the title in another direction if you please.