HiStory

I have left all my childhood friends through various circumstances beyond my control. I always wonder who I was, what I was like at 3, 5, 10, 13 (ugh teenage) even 18; for my memory of all these times is like all mankind limited and biased. I long for the outsider view of friends. Oh well...I say I do not care, but inside I do. I am not one to have many deep relationships, I am choosy, liking people with whom I can drop and pick up companionship almost on a whim.

I dreamt a while ago of an old school I attended. I was in boarding school since 5th grade, all through high school then went away to college. From 8th to 11th grade I attended a Catholic school at my father's order. It had a great reputation and... that's all he had, we could barely afford it most of the time. I hated it! I met the most amoral, hateful children I have ever known. Admittedly, I am not beyond blame. I was uppity, I felt I was forced to be one with people 'below my standards' for I came from a high tier grade school than most of them. Here I was, stuck at a mission school that had no workers. The students did most of the work. It was horrible! The food was worse for the money we paid, I will leave the sordid living facilities out of it. I found the whole 4 years an odyssey. I wished and prayed to leave at the first chance I could. Thank God I did.

I made good friends who helped me through. I was miserable there. I did meet the man who told me to write, and write I did. I met a man who taught me 2 years of Mathematics in one weekend (Got a B in the 4 year final!) There were several other great people. Oh and I met James Bond. Those are the slivers of glory I carry with me still, found in that wretched place. I also learned to be humble, invisible and quietly long suffering.

When I am stressed, I dream of this school. I awake in fear. It is there that I first learnt fear, and the convolution that marks human relations. What doesn't kill you right...hmm. Something died, I wonder sometimes was its death a loss? For in 'its' place lives this melodramatic cynic. My present nature had its beginnings in this place I hate so much.

Ironic.