So I lied last night. That wasn't the conclusion of the Mentor Rift rambling series. It continues even now. A few minutes ago, I was thinking I would use the lyrics to chorus of Tori Amos's "Cruel" to opne this rambling. Now, I'm not so sure it fits anymore. Aw, what the hell. Use it anyway.

[Bitscape inserts the cd which contains the Shady Feline Remix version.]

Was it oddly prophetic that I bought the single to that song just last Friday? (Though I have known the album version since... May of... 98 I think. Yea, that's when it came out. From The Choirgirl Hotel. I remember it distinctly, because it came out on the same day that school ended, and my last act of the school year on the way out of Lincoln, Nebraska for the summer was to purchase it. At Homer's. On S 48th street. And I got a free poster as part of the promotion. Ah... memories. :)

I can be cruel. I don't know why. Those words have taken on an entirely new meaning for me over the past 36 hours. It comes as quite a shock to actually see and experience my own capacity for viciousness. Directed at none other than a being who has been nothing but kind, supportive, and understanding ever since our first exchange. I seldom acquire enemies. Even the rare individuals who I might consider adversaries would be hard pressed to find such a load of venom being spewed at them from me. So why, why, WHY was I so quick to jab the spear over a misunderstanding which could have been cleared up and resolved with a little heart to heart honesty and time to clarify what was meant?

I take myself back to the moments which lead up to it. What was I thinking? (I'm being admittedly vague here about the subject matter, because... well, it's personal. Not all my private thoughts need to be published on the web, much less those of my mentor, who chooses not to engage in this online public tell-all insanity.)

Well, obviously, I was pissed. Angry. Felt like I was being backed into a corner. Areas where I felt most insecure (and didn't want to admit it) were being highlighted. Then I felt like I was being taunted (which wasn't intended, as I discovered later). Taunted for my most vulnerable short comings. (Echoes of scars and wounds inflicted as far back as grade school, when it really was taunting, and I didn't have a clue how to react back then. That probably made my subconscious extra ridiculously paranoid without me even realizing it.) This time, it was coming from somebody I had trusted. That made it feel all the worse. I LASHED OUT.

There was no rationality, because there was no time for rationality. Back it formative days, there had been no time for rationality. At the age and place I was, you stop to think for two seconds, you get kicked again. (Psychologically speaking. I was not physically abused. Peers can be nasty though. School sucks.) Learn to think quick on your feet, throw a witty and preferably more biting response back immediately, and you not only get left alone for a while, but might actually earn some recognition and respect. I was a slow learner. Very slow.

[Breaking the general style guide which says not to direct comments at a specific person who is likely to read this.] Mentor, the vindictive abuse I hurled at you was a culmination of years of cruelty from others. I see now that I was not responding so much to you, but to them. Everything that I hadn't said (but later wished I could have) was directed to you. When your words flashed across the screen, fight or flight took over. I fought.

I don't intend the above to act as excuse my actions. I think of it more as an exploration into myself, and the unknown inner forces which drive me. I am responsible for my actions, which is why I believe it beneficial to look for the roots of these mental weeds.

Believe it or not, the whole bit about grade school didn't even occur to me until just before I typed it a few paragraphs up. As I was going, my pattern recognition engine just sort of clicked, I added it as a subthought, and then decided there might be more wonth exploring. Ah, the wonderful cathartic power of the Random Ramblings seat-of-the-pants thought process. :)

Wow. I wasn't even really planning to go back into the icky itself. There's more I could say about it now, too. One more that I wanted to cover, and then I'll get to what I was really planning for this rambling. :)

Another tract about: What was I thinking? While a paranoid overreactive irrationality did take hold, there was also a part of me that remained fully conscious and cognizant of what was happening. The rational part did not stop or restrain the beast. Why? Thinking something as follows: "My mentor has thick skin, and will be able to handle it. After all, this is one of the strongest people I know. And maybe if I throw a hardball, my point will actually be driven home. LISTEN to me, and back off! And just to make sure, let's juice it up with some poisonous, personally vindictive sting. That'll do it." And so, I sent what I believe was the worst personal attack on anybody in my entire life -- meatspace or online -- on its way.

About the thick skin... Well, I think my mentor does have some pretty damn good shielding mechanisms. I'm speculating here. Totally speculating. My words. My theories. Just theories. Nothing authoritative about this from my mentor.

That shielding had been dropped. I had been let in. I was trusted. I was on sacred ground. (Try not to read too much into that, Queensryche fans.) And I didn't even realize it.

---

My mentor has not abandoned me. Last night, I was given some more direction. Devotees of the religion topic last week might find that link interesting. (Since it doesn't have any link up, here's the actual parent page; and yes, I have ordered myself a copy.)

Even today, when I got home from work, I found more good bits of info in my box. It's nowhere near the happy, good times state of a few days ago. It may never be. I'm not sure. That I don't appear to be the only one who wants to at least keep some level of contact going is for me a sign of hope. It's a long road.

Another positive: In the email yesterday, where my mentor declared that it might be parting time, there was a bittersweet statement about having misjudged my progress. Underestimated it. That I appeared to have been farther along than was actually the case.

That's such a two-sided coin, because (a) "What? You really thought I was doing good? That's so cool!", tempered with (b) "Oh, I'm really not so up there." Because of one slip. One awful, heat of the moment slip, I'm back to zero? Okay, so I said the "back to zero" part. Maybe I'm exaggerating. I'd like to think that my misdeed was the exception, not the rule. That I really am, overall, doing well. Is that self-delusion?

This brings me to another topic that's been at the tip of my brain. What really matters most here? My estimation of how I'm doing, or that of my mentor? We all choose our own destiny, know ourselves best, etc etc etc. At the same time, you cannot look at yourself while you are yourself. That's actually based loosely on something in acting class; my instructor is a firm believer that the best judge of a performance is not the actor, but an observer. If you're trying to observe yourself while you act, you're not doing your job. Could such be applied to life. Perhaps.

Well aren't I the babbler? On, and on, and on, and on! Will it ever end? Might it be that I'll just spend the next week writing nothing on this web site except lament after lament about my mistake? Could be. It might get old to readers though. I write what's on my mind. This is on my mind. (Yes, I know I'm missing Voyager. This is more important, as is the reading material I have.)

Wait a sec, I'm not missing Voyager. I MISSED Voyager. For all practical purposes, at least. Nuts. Time flies when you're rambling. All hail the content vultures!

Today, during lunch, eating a few of my coworkers in the new chinese place by the mall, my mind started wandering off. (As it often does.) And guess what it wandered to? The Bitter Suite. Any Xenite worth their chakram who has been reading this could figure out why. And then this piece of fanfic that I read back in the day. Hmmm. Just thought I'd share that.

Today, after work, I wondered to a couple bookstores, in search of the book linked to above. Couldn't find it. (Only later did I learn that it's self-published, so not likely to find it's way to much wide circulation.) But I DID find the introductory Scott Cunningham title I was looking for the other day. The Truth About Witchcraft Today. Yes, it was at Borders. Given that that store is right on my way home, it's got the potential to become a very frequent stop. [Must.... upgrade... visual... language... parser...]

In that vein, I think I'll put a stop to this endless act of mental regurgitating, and dive into the pages. Hmmm... A little something to eat wouldn't hurt either. :)

Grrr.. We need longer days. I vote that the earth's rotational speed be altered in such a way that each day lasts 36 hours at minimum. Yes. That's my proposal. Life's too short to be bitter, and... and I'm too short to be bitter! Ok, ok, I'll shut up, I admit, I need a vacation... (mumble mumble)....