The Day of the Dead
Nov. 1st, 2001 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolariIn my world, Hallowe'en is a two day affair. For my mother, it's also a two day affair. It's just different days.
In my world, Hallowe'en is October 31st. And Day of the Dead is November 1st. For mom, it's October 31st,and All Saints Day, November 2nd. Mom doesn't like my celebrating Day of the Dead...and, in typical mom style, she's made sure I can't go out and celebrate. No picnics near gravesites, no communing with the spirits. No, we can't have that. So she's managed to make sure my sister and her vehicle are aren't here. And she's taken my vehicle, with no real way of contacting her. She's conveniently left her cellular phone here.
How nice.
So I've been celebrating the deaths of people I have no idea are dead or not. Suicide Journal is the best thing I can find next to the obituaries. Problem is, I have half a notion that these people aren't dead, and did it for the attention.
Suicide for attention pisses me off. Suicide because you are in so much pain you have to end it all, doesn't. If you want to kill yourself, nine times outta ten, if you mean it, it'll happen.
Halowe'en is also a time for saying goodbye, a time for celebrating change. Goodbye to the old, hello to the new. Like a Janus gate.
It is a time for me to say goodbye to Austin. Goodbye to Deener. Goodbye to Pennsylvania. Austin has scarred me. Deener has changed. Pennsylvania unnatainable. I cannot have things thing any longer, and should stop trying. Reliving the past is terrible when you're trying to create the future.
The new life I have right now really really sucks, but thankfully, the other half of the Janus gate (welcoming the new) is in January...so I have another two month to bitch and moan about being stuck here before I really need to shut up and get over it. :)
The "Goodbye to the Old/Hello to the New" stuff, though, doesn't happen at Hallowe'en all the time. No. Not at all.
As part of the Day of the Dead, I invite you all to hear the story of my friend, Mario, and celebrate his death. Mario died sometime in February, 1995. In a very...figurative sort of way.
Mario had always wanted to be a girl. Ever since he was a little boy. His parents, especially his mother, though, we're adamant that he live his role as a man, no matter the cost. His mother had shipped him from psychiatrist to psychiatrist. As soon as one said "He's a good candidate for Sexual Reassignment Surgery" she shipped him out to another. This had the bad effect of making him feel that his life was beign run by his family, his life was out of his control.
Mario's college work suffered. He had no drive to go to classes, his depression drove him to to other pursuits, causing lowered grades and academic probation. He needed to get out of his house and desperately grabbed any job he could get. He should have gone elsewhere. His boss was a demanding control freak, forcing him to choose between school and work. Mario needed the money. He dropped out of college. At work he was regularly humiliated, being relegated to work no one else in the store would do. His vehicle was scratched up from transporting merchandise. He moved boxes from one side of the warehouse to the other, and then back again, simply to stay busy. He poured toxic chemicals into drains from broken bottles. All for minimum wage.
Then came The Day Everything Changed.
Mario had always been nothing more than a tool. Soemthing his mother could use to dish out cruelty and mind games on. Something his father had abandonned. He had a very bad idea of himself, and his days were filled with thoughts of how worthless and how much of a failure he was in everything. There was no encouragement frmo the people he saw everyday. Encouragement came only from the few people he considered friends, but it wasn't enough. He was a failure, dooming any project or idea he was ever involved with. It hadn't started as a good day. Mario hated going into work. Hated beng called Idiot and Stupid. Hated being tossed aside like a dirty rag. He got enough of that at home
At work, the day went as normal, and, if anything, was rather light on the evil. Which was good, as he wasn't doing to well. HIs rage was on the surface, and he was beginning to believe that if he couldn't be anything good, he would become evil. Plans had formed in his mind. Scary plans. Plans involving revenge, death and retribution. This was the mindset he was in already, and while it abailted most of the day, it was still there. Under the surface. Tainting his thoughts.
It only took one "stupid" for it to go off. And it was with tremendous self control that Mario told his boss off. IT took an incredible amount of restraint to not pick up the box cutters littering the store and slash his throat. It took an incredible amount of resrtaint not to grab his head and tiest off his scrawny little neck. He left the building, and didn't come back. HE was trembling with rage when he left. So much so that he twisted the key off in the ignition.
He went home, driving at over one hundred miles per hour down the freeay. Half heartedly hoping he'd crash into someone, or fly off a freeway. At home, he checked the mail and found out that his last semesters grades from University had come in. His parents still thought he was giong to school. If they had ever found out he had quit to work, the world at home would have bevcome very difficult to do anything in.
He had destroyed his education for a job to leave home.
He had destroyed his chance at every leaving home by quitting his job.
He had destroyed his chance at picking hmself back up by being forced to stay at home.
He had destroyed his chance at ever being a woman by staying at home.
He had failed.
In every way shape and form, he had failed. There was nothing left.
In the closet of his parents house was a 10-gague shotgun. His father had taught him how to work it, and was actually proud to see his son as a great target shooter. Sure, he was mad that his son wouldn't shoot deer with him, or go dove hunting. But the fact that he could was good enough for now. The shiny shotgun lied in it's box, the gun oil made it shine in the moonlight. But there were no shells. Not a one.
Mario bounced a check. And soon was the recipient of a nice box of 10 gague shotgun shells. He decided to hit a video game parlor, one he and his friends had frequented often. He played a few rounds of this game, and that game. Halfheartedly enjoying the temporary thrills. Just as he was about to leave, Steph came in. Steph was one of the few people he considered family, and she was one of the few people who knew his moods. And she saw something desperately wrong.
They had a talk that night. A talk abuot what Mario was going to do. A talk abou ending it all...and Steph, knowing Mario's life, agreed with him. Killing himself is the only answer.
But.
By killing himself, he would be commiting murder on the woman he ha always wanted to be. She would die before ever having a chance to live. Steph told him that MArio needed to go away, and become the Woman. And if she failed, and if SHE consented to suicide, it wouldn't be murder.
Mario drove away with her words in his mind. He drove to a little known country road in the middle of nowhere, a place called Kallison Lane. There were no lights here. Just the road, a tree and the beautiful stars. IT was a New Moon, so you could see into the depths of space. The milky way beckoned to him as he put the gun in his mouth.
The stars called to him. Begged him to reconsider.
His finger pulled the trigger.
what if steph is right what if this is murder who am i really what do i want with my life why must it be this hard why am i not allowed to be what i want or waht i need to be i may be committing murder tonight ion the woman if i do this is it worth it but if she did live she would only be a cut up male and never be the true woman she was meant to be she would never be a woman and she would be in even more pain then because she can never have a child and she wouldn't be a true woman youd be doing her a favor why dont you squeeze the trigger and end it all because while it would be murder it would be a mercy killing you need to do this youv'e gone too far your mother is at home probably wondering where your dads gun is she is going to give it to you with all guns you realize you are nothing right you willf orever be nothing an empty vessel for other peole to push you into what they want you to be despite what you want you are nothing you will always be nothing you are a waste of skin a terrible accident you should have been aborted the world hates you and they will destroy you yuo don't need to live save the air you breathe and the food you eat for others more worthyDIE
-=[CLICK]=-
Nothing happened. Mario rechecked the shells. They were in, the safety was off.
-=[CLICK]=-
Again nothing happened. Mario aimed and shot...the shotgun went CLICK.
His father had always called his shotgun a ten gague. Mario always thought it was a ten gague. IT wasn't. The bullets fit, but were too small for the firing pin.
He had failed in being a woman.
He had failed in his job.
He had failed his parents.
And now, he had failed in his suicide attempt.
But he did die that night...
Whatever came back went home and fell asleep. He was woken up at 10AM by his mother, in tears. She had searched his truck and found the shotgun. And the shells. She asked him what he was doing with it. Maybe he thought she would change if he told her. Maybe he thought things were different. Maybe MArio had already died and someone else had taken over. Mario (or whatever creature Mario had become) told her what he had attempted, and why.
Her response?
"How could you do this to me? Can you imagine what kind of mother I would look like to the family? I'm already embarrassed of you enough, but fo you to do this to me?"
If he wasn't already dead, that's when Mario died. The moment his mother, in the pits of his depression and suicide attempt, told him his death would make HER look bad. Never mind the reasons behind it. Neve mind how her demands that he be a boy had driven him to this. No. She was worried about Mario ruining her image.
The creature who took over after Mario died left home that evening. And didn't go back for a whole year.
Hallowe'en is also about leaving things behind. I have dragged aroudn Mario's corpse long enough, and say goodbye to the baggage he gave me, that I have hidden for a very long time. From this day forward, it is just me, Jenn - the creature Mario had become.
And by declaring who I was, I leave it to the winds. Goodbye, Mario. I hope you finally find your peace.
In my world, Hallowe'en is October 31st. And Day of the Dead is November 1st. For mom, it's October 31st,and All Saints Day, November 2nd. Mom doesn't like my celebrating Day of the Dead...and, in typical mom style, she's made sure I can't go out and celebrate. No picnics near gravesites, no communing with the spirits. No, we can't have that. So she's managed to make sure my sister and her vehicle are aren't here. And she's taken my vehicle, with no real way of contacting her. She's conveniently left her cellular phone here.
How nice.
So I've been celebrating the deaths of people I have no idea are dead or not. Suicide Journal is the best thing I can find next to the obituaries. Problem is, I have half a notion that these people aren't dead, and did it for the attention.
Suicide for attention pisses me off. Suicide because you are in so much pain you have to end it all, doesn't. If you want to kill yourself, nine times outta ten, if you mean it, it'll happen.
Halowe'en is also a time for saying goodbye, a time for celebrating change. Goodbye to the old, hello to the new. Like a Janus gate.
It is a time for me to say goodbye to Austin. Goodbye to Deener. Goodbye to Pennsylvania. Austin has scarred me. Deener has changed. Pennsylvania unnatainable. I cannot have things thing any longer, and should stop trying. Reliving the past is terrible when you're trying to create the future.
The new life I have right now really really sucks, but thankfully, the other half of the Janus gate (welcoming the new) is in January...so I have another two month to bitch and moan about being stuck here before I really need to shut up and get over it. :)
The "Goodbye to the Old/Hello to the New" stuff, though, doesn't happen at Hallowe'en all the time. No. Not at all.
As part of the Day of the Dead, I invite you all to hear the story of my friend, Mario, and celebrate his death. Mario died sometime in February, 1995. In a very...figurative sort of way.
Mario had always wanted to be a girl. Ever since he was a little boy. His parents, especially his mother, though, we're adamant that he live his role as a man, no matter the cost. His mother had shipped him from psychiatrist to psychiatrist. As soon as one said "He's a good candidate for Sexual Reassignment Surgery" she shipped him out to another. This had the bad effect of making him feel that his life was beign run by his family, his life was out of his control.
Mario's college work suffered. He had no drive to go to classes, his depression drove him to to other pursuits, causing lowered grades and academic probation. He needed to get out of his house and desperately grabbed any job he could get. He should have gone elsewhere. His boss was a demanding control freak, forcing him to choose between school and work. Mario needed the money. He dropped out of college. At work he was regularly humiliated, being relegated to work no one else in the store would do. His vehicle was scratched up from transporting merchandise. He moved boxes from one side of the warehouse to the other, and then back again, simply to stay busy. He poured toxic chemicals into drains from broken bottles. All for minimum wage.
Then came The Day Everything Changed.
Mario had always been nothing more than a tool. Soemthing his mother could use to dish out cruelty and mind games on. Something his father had abandonned. He had a very bad idea of himself, and his days were filled with thoughts of how worthless and how much of a failure he was in everything. There was no encouragement frmo the people he saw everyday. Encouragement came only from the few people he considered friends, but it wasn't enough. He was a failure, dooming any project or idea he was ever involved with. It hadn't started as a good day. Mario hated going into work. Hated beng called Idiot and Stupid. Hated being tossed aside like a dirty rag. He got enough of that at home
At work, the day went as normal, and, if anything, was rather light on the evil. Which was good, as he wasn't doing to well. HIs rage was on the surface, and he was beginning to believe that if he couldn't be anything good, he would become evil. Plans had formed in his mind. Scary plans. Plans involving revenge, death and retribution. This was the mindset he was in already, and while it abailted most of the day, it was still there. Under the surface. Tainting his thoughts.
It only took one "stupid" for it to go off. And it was with tremendous self control that Mario told his boss off. IT took an incredible amount of restraint to not pick up the box cutters littering the store and slash his throat. It took an incredible amount of resrtaint not to grab his head and tiest off his scrawny little neck. He left the building, and didn't come back. HE was trembling with rage when he left. So much so that he twisted the key off in the ignition.
He went home, driving at over one hundred miles per hour down the freeay. Half heartedly hoping he'd crash into someone, or fly off a freeway. At home, he checked the mail and found out that his last semesters grades from University had come in. His parents still thought he was giong to school. If they had ever found out he had quit to work, the world at home would have bevcome very difficult to do anything in.
He had destroyed his education for a job to leave home.
He had destroyed his chance at every leaving home by quitting his job.
He had destroyed his chance at picking hmself back up by being forced to stay at home.
He had destroyed his chance at ever being a woman by staying at home.
He had failed.
In every way shape and form, he had failed. There was nothing left.
In the closet of his parents house was a 10-gague shotgun. His father had taught him how to work it, and was actually proud to see his son as a great target shooter. Sure, he was mad that his son wouldn't shoot deer with him, or go dove hunting. But the fact that he could was good enough for now. The shiny shotgun lied in it's box, the gun oil made it shine in the moonlight. But there were no shells. Not a one.
Mario bounced a check. And soon was the recipient of a nice box of 10 gague shotgun shells. He decided to hit a video game parlor, one he and his friends had frequented often. He played a few rounds of this game, and that game. Halfheartedly enjoying the temporary thrills. Just as he was about to leave, Steph came in. Steph was one of the few people he considered family, and she was one of the few people who knew his moods. And she saw something desperately wrong.
They had a talk that night. A talk abuot what Mario was going to do. A talk abou ending it all...and Steph, knowing Mario's life, agreed with him. Killing himself is the only answer.
But.
By killing himself, he would be commiting murder on the woman he ha always wanted to be. She would die before ever having a chance to live. Steph told him that MArio needed to go away, and become the Woman. And if she failed, and if SHE consented to suicide, it wouldn't be murder.
Mario drove away with her words in his mind. He drove to a little known country road in the middle of nowhere, a place called Kallison Lane. There were no lights here. Just the road, a tree and the beautiful stars. IT was a New Moon, so you could see into the depths of space. The milky way beckoned to him as he put the gun in his mouth.
The stars called to him. Begged him to reconsider.
His finger pulled the trigger.
what if steph is right what if this is murder who am i really what do i want with my life why must it be this hard why am i not allowed to be what i want or waht i need to be i may be committing murder tonight ion the woman if i do this is it worth it but if she did live she would only be a cut up male and never be the true woman she was meant to be she would never be a woman and she would be in even more pain then because she can never have a child and she wouldn't be a true woman youd be doing her a favor why dont you squeeze the trigger and end it all because while it would be murder it would be a mercy killing you need to do this youv'e gone too far your mother is at home probably wondering where your dads gun is she is going to give it to you with all guns you realize you are nothing right you willf orever be nothing an empty vessel for other peole to push you into what they want you to be despite what you want you are nothing you will always be nothing you are a waste of skin a terrible accident you should have been aborted the world hates you and they will destroy you yuo don't need to live save the air you breathe and the food you eat for others more worthyDIE
-=[CLICK]=-
Nothing happened. Mario rechecked the shells. They were in, the safety was off.
-=[CLICK]=-
Again nothing happened. Mario aimed and shot...the shotgun went CLICK.
His father had always called his shotgun a ten gague. Mario always thought it was a ten gague. IT wasn't. The bullets fit, but were too small for the firing pin.
He had failed in being a woman.
He had failed in his job.
He had failed his parents.
And now, he had failed in his suicide attempt.
But he did die that night...
Whatever came back went home and fell asleep. He was woken up at 10AM by his mother, in tears. She had searched his truck and found the shotgun. And the shells. She asked him what he was doing with it. Maybe he thought she would change if he told her. Maybe he thought things were different. Maybe MArio had already died and someone else had taken over. Mario (or whatever creature Mario had become) told her what he had attempted, and why.
Her response?
"How could you do this to me? Can you imagine what kind of mother I would look like to the family? I'm already embarrassed of you enough, but fo you to do this to me?"
If he wasn't already dead, that's when Mario died. The moment his mother, in the pits of his depression and suicide attempt, told him his death would make HER look bad. Never mind the reasons behind it. Neve mind how her demands that he be a boy had driven him to this. No. She was worried about Mario ruining her image.
The creature who took over after Mario died left home that evening. And didn't go back for a whole year.
Hallowe'en is also about leaving things behind. I have dragged aroudn Mario's corpse long enough, and say goodbye to the baggage he gave me, that I have hidden for a very long time. From this day forward, it is just me, Jenn - the creature Mario had become.
And by declaring who I was, I leave it to the winds. Goodbye, Mario. I hope you finally find your peace.
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no subject
Date: 2001-11-01 05:36 pm (UTC)Thank you for sharing that story Jenn it was truly inspirational. Have I mentioned that you are amazing? Well you are.