Violent Acres

I think everyone has those moments in their life when something all of the sudden shifts. Enlightenment usually comes without warning, but when it does, anything can happen. You can decide to leave your soul crushing job, move to a new city, propose to your girlfriend, or even finally realize your own faults. You can make big changes in your life. Or, failing that, at least come to know the reasons behind the decisions you’ve already made. All this can happen within the span of a single moment.

What I find most intriguing about these moments is that when traced back to their birth, they usually come about in the most mundane of circumstances. Perhaps you decided to divorce your husband while crossing the street to get a cup of coffee. Or maybe you found God while examining a blade of grass. A child’s smile might have reminded you of your love for you Mother, or a song on the radio made you think of your worst childhood enemy. It’s kind of amazing the things that we can learn about ourselves and the world around us just by carrying on with the drudgery of our day.

The downside to all of this is that these stories are rarely told. A lot of us know that what may seem magical and beautiful to us is, in reality, just another ordinary, humdrum day. So we keep mum because, well, who wants to hear that shit?

I want to hear that shit. In fact, this entire website is (in a nutshell) that kind of shit. I get tired of reading about people who do nothing but parrot information they’ve read in books or on billboards or watched on the goddamn television. I grow weary of dull, impassioned arguments that were gift wrapped by some higher authority with an agenda and crammed down our throats until our minds turned to mush and started leaking out of our ears. I want to tell people to quit fucking quoting me statistics about global warming that they read on MSN. Instead, look around the world and tell me what you think is happening. Form your own hypothesis. Do your own research. Quit depending on a society to tell you what is real! When did we all lose faith in our individual ability to learn anyway? And when did learning become synonymous with memorization? You can’t teach a conscience. It comes strictly from personal experiences; those mundane moments I wrote about earlier.

Did you know that deep down in the heart of every girl is a bit of a Drama Queen? I’m no exception.

Anyway, I was thinking about shit like this a few nights ago while conversing with a friend. He mentioned my site and I asked him if he was enjoying it.

He pursed his lips like people do when they taste something sour and said, “It’s good, I guess. It’s just that….you never tell any of your good stories.”

I laughed, sincerely delighted. “My good stories? What the hell are my good stories?”

He wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. “Well, you barely ever talk about your Mom. And I don’t believe you’ve mentioned your ex husband at all and boy that guy was a piece of work.”

I’ve heard this criticism before. My response is always the same.

“People cry ‘fake!’ if I write a story about mixing up the stickers at the DMV! So how the hell am I supposed to properly introduce them to my Mother?”

Sometimes, I am astounded by my own hypocrisy. Here I am condemning the world for letting society silence their voice all the while editing myself.

Let me a take a short break here and address all the areas on this website where I’ve lied. It’s time to finally come clean.

I lie about the weather in order to conceal the area in which I live. I switch my personal details around in order to conceal my identity. I encourage rumors that are absolutely untrue. I am purposely vague about the work I used to do because I know how easy it would be to find the companies I worked for. Very rarely do I discuss my physical characteristics. None of you know what color my eyes are.

Hardly ever do I visit your personal websites. Instead I send my friends to copy and paste your work and send it to me via email. I do this to avoid giving you my IP.

Sometimes, when writing a story, I shorten the timeline. For example, if a few weeks went by in between two situations, I will omit the weeks where nothing happened. I do this because my stories are long enough as it is and it’s the only way I can think of to shorten them.

There are times when I leave relevant information out, too. I do this because I lack writing talent and it’s much easier for me to write someone as a ‘nice guy’ than it is for me to write them as ‘a nice guy who was a bit crazy and did some fucked up things although he meant well.’ So I play up all the aspects of the person that made him nice and casually omit all the things he did that contradicted that image. The people in my life are not paper dolls created to push my agenda, but I can totally understand how it might seem that way.

Some of my stories are over 20 years old. My memory is fading so I cannot guarantee 100% accuracy of the dialogue in a story that took place when I was in second grade…although I do try my best.

Probably the most blatant areas in which I lie revolve around the children in my life. I change their ages, their sexes, and their relation to myself. My niece is probably not really my niece, but a conglomeration of quite a few children I once knew. I change the scenery in these stories. A game of dolls might have actually been a game of basketball. A fit thrown by a 5 year old might have actually been the suicide attempt of a 15 year old. My goal with every story I write about a child is to get to the heart of what really happened while simultaneously disguising them so completely that they wouldn’t even be able to recognize themselves. I do this because I want to protect them from embarrassment and ridicule. I do this because some of them are too young to consent to me hijacking their stories. I do this because I love them too much to make them into public figures.

Those are the lies that I am not ashamed of.

However, I have downplayed a few stories to make them more believable. Worse than that, I have avoided telling some stories all together because I couldn’t figure out a way to downplay them sufficiently enough.

I am ashamed of that.

Someday, I’d like to properly introduce you to my Mother. I’d like to tell you about my biological Father and all the men who eventually took his place. My ex husband and his family are also significant in my life and I want to tell you why. I want to tell you how I ended up in a juvenile detention center and how it was the best thing that ever happened to me, but not for the reasons you might think. I want to tell you about all the people in these stories because their stories need told.

But I’m going to warn you right here and now, some of what I might say might sound like a bunch of made-up fantasy bullshit. I’m afraid I don’t really know many normal people and because of this some of my mundane moments may seem a bit too outrageous to believe. I don’t blame you if you look upon everything I write with suspicion and distrust. I suppose if I were sitting in your chair, I’d think of me as a liar as well.

I think I’m finally OK with that.

Similar Articles

• Fifteen and Already a Wife
• Absolutely Pointless
• How to Scare Away a Good Nanny
• Parental Pride and Expectations
• I Hate Birds (And God Too, If He Exists)