Somewhere there's pigs flying....

by Kai

August 9, 2000

...because I'm posting on this side of the board. I'm one who prefers and enjoys it more - to leave the eloquent posts and reasonable arguments to other more able posters here. And I'm a person of privacy - very - I can't describe just how much. But I'm breaking both of my rules tonight - I'm going to post and I'm going to share. This was written earlier today, and sent to a few friends on this board and I'm posting this here (it's hopefully been edited enough to be acceptable - if for any reason this causes any sort of stress to the board - moderators feel free to delete it entirely). Why decide to post now? Maybe to just speak what I've only had in thought - to make it more real to me, to accept it I guess - if that makes any sense?

The following begins off personally but all leads (touching extremely loosely) to where I stand on the 'break-up' that's been discussed lately. Keep in mind this may be incoherent - but I never pretend to be otherwise. It may be a long post - but I always ramble when I feel for something more. It may be useless to you - but for some reason beyond my complete comprehension - I feel the need to post. The thoughts on Manny are my own and I don't mean to force them on anyone else.

It is in no way meant to get anyone riled up, to offend anyone, to depress anyone, or to put down/disregard the thoughts of others that may run contrary to this (which I'm sure there are - but that the beauty of this board - diversity). If I have done any - it was not my intention - and my extreme apologies in advance. So here we go -

Hi. My name's Kai and I've never really introduced myself before. Too shy - too intimidated. But I'm a Mannyac. I have a tendency to think too much, to question too much and this is what's been on my mind lately...

ANCHORS IN THE HARBOUR, BOTH FEET FIRMLY ON THE SHORE...

After a three hour drive and a six hour flight…I’m here. Tired, in need of a bath, and a dose of orange juice. I look like something the cat just dragged in but mum hugged me close and said those magic words. “Welcome home child. We missed you.” A six hour flight can sometimes be the longest thing in the world – but it’s one I’m grateful for. I had to think anyway – away from supportive friends and protective family.

Can you smell that? It’s the Pacific ocean down the road. Not the greatest smell but can you feel that? It’s the cool breeze freshly swept from the ocean – a relaxing thing on a late afternoon in August. The only thing unnatural is Coolio’s ‘C U When U Get There’ playing on repeat on the stereo. Rap music – oh my – has it been that long since my tastes have slightly changed? I know the words to this song, but right now I’m listening beyond that - right now, the music itself beats in every fiber of me, easing me, filling me, keeping me here… Home.

I’m back in my parents house, sitting in my old bedroom, surrounded by my entire childhood – every infatuation, every phase, every hobby – music, books, fine art, various dancing shoes… On the closet Michael Jordan centers a collage of other players – Spreewell, Iverson, Wallace. Next to that are kids’ drawings given to me from when I’d assisted with a summer school program. Peeking out from the gap of the closet opening is the leg of a teddy bear, with him the other stuffed toys I’ve accumulated over past years. In one corner of the room sits my desk beside which a few paintings lie against each other, a folder of sketches scattered slightly at their feet. Scraps of paper containing now embarrassing poems have floated to join the folder from the opened high-school diary on the desk. In short a typical girl’s childhood room.

There must be every physical memory I’ve ever kept here, each one attached to a specific emotion. And the ones that mean the most… photo frames just about everywhere and a box of notes and letters that usually overflow two shoe boxes spread in random places on my duvet. Right then, in this moment I’m surrounded by everyone I ever knew - everyone that ever meant something to me. It’s funny really, the way my life panned out, since I was ten going on eleven I’d always believed that I’d worked my problems out on my own, that when life dealt me sh-t, I took it on by myself. And yet…when the anger’s subsided, the confusion floating somewhere besides in my head, the pain put on hold…the memories come. Some vague others vivid. And then I’m not alone anymore. Now in my early twenties - it’s still the way it happens. Time and again they never fail me - me as a kid, me as a teen, my parents, my brother…my friends. And these past nights, it’s been his turn to be there for me.

I came home for the fourth time this summer to say goodbye, to really let it out and let go… Leaving each time thinking, I’ll be okay now. This time , I promised myself on each return, this time I’ll mean it, this time I’ll really be okay when someone asks…but as much as you can’t deny things forever, you can’t rush them either. Maybe I’ll remember that the next time life decides to hand me a joker’s deal – but I doubt it.

On that first visit, my parents waited until the morning after I flew in to tell me the news. We sat around the table over the smell of coffee, toast, scrambled eggs, and sausages. I had my orange juice, was dressed in my pajamas and feeling good that someone else was making my breakfast. Actually, my parents probably would’ve waited until longer to tell me, had my brother not blurted it out. Then it was all their voices at once – apologetic, hesitant, scared, seeking…

He was in a car accident…
Ben gave him the keys…
He was so adamant about it…
There were four of them…

And all I could think was…

What?
Back up…
When?
How bad?

I must have asked that last question four times before my dad actually said the words, even my brother who’s always quick to answer first, stared me in the eye and wouldn’t speak.

I sat there – shocked, numb. And then I felt myself smile, all crazy and twisted, my head all of a sudden spinning. No. This sh-t doesn’t happen… Maybe in the movies - on the telly, maybe in the news – but not in real life, not in my life… it just doesn’t happen. I wasn’t ready, I wasn’t prepared – I didn’t f----ing know!

But you never do do you? Know that is. And that’s what makes life and any and all things about it’s journey sometimes the most scary, the most fascinating, the most wonderful, and the most heartbreaking & painful thing that it can be. …Innit?

I returned to the board some days back – something that just happened – something unexpected. And I read it all. The various speculations on the Manny break up – is it or isn’t it permanent, what’s going to happen to them, will they cheat on each other, who with, what now, why is Michelle acting like a brat, why can’t Danny keep a promise…and the list goes on. F--k. My head was messed as it is. Is that why I broke and gave in to the doubt?

Yeah, I got scared… Me, the one who’d preached to friends that their love was so great it could never be denied, never be broken. Never. What writer would be silly enough to not realize that? So I started asking myself what if? Is this the end? Does this tie in with JL’s possible departure? I was already picturing a lone Danny hooking up with someone else…Oh, God – nasty images those were. As if life itself wasn’t already depressing…I was buying OJ by the cartons. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were pulp flowing through my veins instead of blood!

Dealing with Nicky’s death hasn’t been easy – isn’t easy. Instead of his death pushing me to live and love every day – it pushed me in the other direction. I was scared sh-tless. For the first time I really understood what it meant to not have complete control of our lives, that there are some things you just can’t… …control

…Sometimes it feels like I’m in this void forever and other times it’ll seem like today was better than yesterday. Think of the ‘good times’ a friend said. She meant well, I know she did, she’s my friend – but I still wanted to tell her where to stuff it. But I remember.

One of the last memories I had of Nicky was the both of us sitting on that worn down and ugly love seat on his front porch talking…. While I was being sent away to school that fall for the second year, he was leaving the country. I was smiling so much to force the tears back to where they’d come from. It wasn’t his fault, but I called him a d-ck for leaving me anyway. I wasn’t going to say goodbye, I had said that goodbyes were for people who didn’t want to be a part of each other’s lives anymore. You see, I’ve always believed that if you want something bad enough, it is possible – even though it’s not always what you expected it to feel like in the end. I promised to write every week and call every month – I promised to never, ever forget him. And then he said it.

“You don’t know that.”

He said that we didn’t know what was going to happen to us be it a week, two months down the road, or a year later. He said that was just life – you move on, you change, and sometimes so do the people in it. God, I was scared, upset…his reasoning was so damn good. Somewhere I’m sure he’s laughing his a-- off, pretty chuffed with himself because I’m about to say he was right. Writing and calling became something I forgot to do and I got to the point where just knowing he was somewhere living life and being happy became enough. Even when he moved back home, knowing he was there – that’s all I needed to know. And now he’s not. And it hurts like nothing I’ve known.

But he’s right – you never know. Not knowing can scare the hell out of people – is that why we all search for guarantees or come to conclusions? To subconsciously prepare ourselves for what might be in store? But then those words – might be in store, might happen – and anything can happen. Bad or good. But you don’t know Manny’s future for sure – and neither do I – unless there’s a Claire Labine and co amongst us in disguise. I do, however, know where I’d like things to go, what I’m willing to believe.

And I believe...

…that if I didn’t love Manny as much as I’m sometimes not ready to admit – I wouldn’t have had that moment of fear – that urge to run when the break up was announced.

…that although I wanted to run – there’s something to be said about the fact I didn’t .

…in Manny – in their love, in everything that they are – good and bad, whether or not a few writers at GL choose not to see the same thing.

And I believe this. I believe I owe Manny to wait things out – see how they go, to just take things as they are right now – neither getting my hopes up nor dismissing them. I believe I owe it to them to watch their love story play out, to love every part of it – painful or not.

Someone once said to me – after the loss of BBS – when you love something that much – it thrills you more, it makes you feel more, and it hurts you more. How true… Which is exactly the reason I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to speculate any (try anyway – I am only human). Life’s not black and white – it’s not as cut up and dried as I’d like it to be – I spend half my life in the grey areas. I can’t recall the times I’ve believed, been so sure , I’d never write again and yet found myself painting some chapter in my mind, only for the urge to pass again.

Right now the other places look a little better, a few snags here and there but nothing as serious – nothing as scary… Why I wonder? Is it because I don’t care as much? Maybe.

Right now San Crisotbel looks like the great escape. But if I pull the plug it’ll be what it is – a deflated illusion.

Right now Theresa’s twisted gun toting playground looks like it might just play some larger part than I want it too. But since she’s only got one bodyguard or none at all times – I might just fix that particular problem.

And right now… Right now my anchors still in the harbour, my feet on the shore. I haven’t gone anywhere. It wasn’t like I chose this, chose to fall for them. You can turn off the telly you say. Ah, but I can’t. You see I was a goner the moment I came across some mobster telling some man of his concern for his wife. So what choice do I have but to say this (to the writers of GL).

Go right ahead and churn the waters, rock the boat all you want – I can’t leave. Not yet. Bring on the hurricane and let loose the thunder. I’ll still be here. I love Mannyland that much – and I’ll be d-mned if I won’t stand by what I believe to be true. If I didn’t it’d be like denying what was – is - one of the reasons I fell in love with them – the love against all odds. Bring back dark Danny, I don’t care – he was dark Danny when he fell in love with her. Bring back the Michelle who wants to live, to be happy, to live like normal people – she was like that when she fell in love with him. Do whatever – but they still love each other. They may be angry, they may be hurt, they may be pushing for different things at this time – but they still love each other. Bring it on – I may not be entirely prepared – may not even have to be – but I’m sticking around for all that it’s worth.

Sure, the reality is that Manny’s storyline is essentially beyond my control. I don’t know what’s in store - and if it is bad? I’ll come to that later - but right now?

I’ll be d-mned if I won’t appreciate it, appreciate what I have at this moment – one of the greatest love stories and two entrancing actors I can’t keep my eyes off. Even the unpredictable future I’ll be sticking around for.

Yes, d-mned if I’m not a Mannyac.

I’ll end here with goodnight. Take care everyone.

Much hugs, much later –

Kai