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Kymberlie Ingalls is native to the Bay Area in California. She is a pioneer in blogging, having self-published online since 1997. Her style is loose, experimental, and a journey in stream of consciousness. Works include personal essay, prose, short fictional stories, and a memoir in progress. Thank you for taking a moment of your time to visit. Beware of the occasional falling opinions. For editing services: http://www.kymberlieingalls.com/p/editing-services.html

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Kites

Time keeps on slipping into the future.

Maybe I never liked that song because I never tried to understand it.  Hatred is bred of ignorance, after all.  One of the things I love about music is how a song I’ve been hearing for thirty years suddenly smacks with sense. 

Time is a tricky thing.  Plays tricks on my mind, like my mind isn’t already a magician’s haven of illusion.  I’m a champion at illusions.. disillusions. 

Epiphanies are a tricky thing too. 

I’ve been thinking lately about what it’s like to be me in the world.  Because it was getting boring thinking about all that fluffy stuff like which Kardashian sister was the latest to get married.  I wonder if the words I write, if the things I do, make a difference to anyone. 

I’m going to write anyway – it’s not to impress others, it’s just what I do.  But it’s in the morning and the door to my ego opens just long enough for my inner self to peek out for a glimpse, an answer.  A ray of insight to knock me upside the head for shit’s sake.

I wonder what it will take for me to believe the people who tell me I matter?  That’s what it’s like to be me in this big, fat world.  A fool who believes everything I want to hear but the court spectres keep me from seeing it as truth. 

Welcome to my pity party.

Author’s Note - Do you believe in karmic irony?  I responded to the ad below, something I rarely ever do.  Just as I sat reveling in my self-pity, I received an reply that I honestly didn't think would come, and could see the grasping at the crazy straws in his few words.  Kites passing each other in the night.  These are the moments that keep me writing – trying to harness the power of words in the storm surrounding me.  I’d like to share the exchange with you now:

Actual Craigslist posting:
So I was just wondering… (41, m4w, San Jose South)
If anyone wanted a real friend. I'm not look for FWB or NSA sex. Just a friend.
Nope I'm not married or in a relationship and I'm not gay. I have served my time and just want a true friend like me. Well not exactly like me you can be different I don't care just be true.  I know what I want and its a friend, just. a friend. So if you would like to have a Friend just a friend please reply. I read and reply to a lot of posts here so some of you might notice at the end of this post who I am. I'm just a man looking for somone that's looking for me. Thanks for reading. XOXO. BILL

Hi, Bill - thought I'd give this a shot, though typically I'm the one posting, not replying.  I'm way out in the east bay, and I always post for chat and online buddies.  I'm not in the habit of meeting offline anymore (respect to my husband) so that could be a deal breaker for you.  But, thought I'd toss the idea out to you.  Game?

Nope not a deal breaker at all. We do not have to meet. I just like to talk. And like I said in the post not looking for any kind of relationship other than friends.  And I'm in san diego right now. Might move here so email texting or chat is perfect.  Real as in I'm tired of being taken advantage of. I have a really big heart and it keeps getting beat up. That's why I'm done with relationships.  I use my real name on my emails because it is public info. So anyone can look me up and see if I'm a jail bird. (Sorry can't spell)  I am a real person with real feelings and yes I do cry and I don't feel like less of a man because.  XOXO.  BILL

So, what has you uprooting and heading south?  I'm a Bay Area native myself, lived in the same town pretty much all of my 40 years, but can't say I'm happy with that.  Some day, though.  Timing is everything.

Well I have issues, phisical and mental. (Not crazy just suicidal) so I'm trying to find a reason for me. Excuse me if I am to forward. Like I said I'm real and I'm not hidding anymore. I really hate my life right now.  That might be a deal breaker for you.  Check mate!  XOXO.   BILL

Few things are a deal breaker for me - hate to break it to you, Chess Man, but suicidal ain't necessarily one of them.  I'm going to be honest with you (and this coming from someone who worked with a crisis line at one point) - if you're looking for someone to talk you out of a panic, I'm not it.  But if you just need an ear, I can do that.  Your move.

An ear is exactly what I need. There is no talking me down, sorry.  See I am a dibetic with major complications and I will be losing body parts soon. Not sure I can handle that. So I'm taking some me time down here to try and figure it out.  Talking has been seeming to help.  I was married twice and have a kid from that (not mine but I claim her) and we still stay in touch from time to time. I married her mother twice.  And that was my only marriage. Now my other daughter the 23 year old won't talk to me. Mad because I sold a truck she did not want. After it was gone she changed her mind and I'm the bad guy now. 41 years old and I've been with 5 women my whole life. And some how I manage to screw it up. Thus the just friends thing. So with my shitty life right now and my leg getting ready to fall off I'm just not fu#*ing happy any more. So here I am.  XOXO.   BILL

Well, aren't we a pair.  I'm diabetic too - type II at the moment.  And I have other issues as well (mental and physical - ha) regarding mobility.  My grandmother was diabetic, and lost her leg and part of her foot.  Not in the effort of talking you down from a ledge - you're a grown up and that's your decision to make - and not to preach to ya either, but the human nature is to adapt.. somehow.  But I do understand because it's a fear always in the back of my mind.  Once I shove out the thought that my clock is ticking at a rather rapid pace.  I give myself a couple of years, and that has nothing to do with diabetes or suicide.  Just a premonition.  But this isn't about me.  Would it interest you to know that I'm a writer, and I shit you not - I was just in the midst of proclaiming my self-imposed pity party when you declared your suicidal intent to me?  How's that for a karmic chess move?

Ok now I'm speachless. See this is what I keep seeing all the time and I think this is starting to scare me more & more.  How is it that you reply to my post? I'm not sure if you beleave in divine entervention or not, but ever since I have been prepairing for this real stupid idea of mine I keep meeting people like you. And its really starting to make me a beleaver again.  Get this, everytime and I meen everytime I start getting down I see somone in a wheelchair or some kind of physical problem and my first thought is, see your being selfish. You said your a writer right?  XOXO.   BILL

I am indeed a writer.  You're not being selfish - the thing is, there's always going to be someone worse off than you.  You're going to be, at some point, the 'worse off' for someone else.  The importance is the acceptance that it's okay to be selfish sometimes.  It's okay to have a pity party.  My problems at hand are thankfully not as bad as past issues, and right now you're my 'worse off,' but it's still okay for me to feel the weight of the world even if it's just for a moment over something .. or nothing.  I do believe that everything happens for a reason.  Nothing is random.  Just wanna say, you're growing on me already, Bill.  Hope you decide to stick around and that I'll get to wander on this crazy-weird journey with you.
 ~ Kymberlie

This is what it’s like for me to be in the world. 

“In the middle of the night the world turns with all its might.  In the middle of the night we keep sending all these kites until a little light gets through…”





© Kymberlie Ingalls, October 19, 2011
Lyrics:  Fly Like An Eagle / The Steve Miller Band
          The Kite Song / Patti Griffin