Certain Missed Things, Places, People, etc. (Obviously from and of my Past; with extras) 5/19
Category: Blogging
I find, somewhat to my infinite distaste and horror; considering the agonizing betrayal, judgment and persecution that I faced there and just barely overcame, just barely escaped from alive, with my skin and sanity intact; that I actually miss Market Basket terribly. Truly, it is more the location and time than the work, or even really the people that I miss, that I somewhat pine for, but the whole thing, given the vast, onerous layers of mental/emotional hell; of ridicule, of harassment, of immaturity, duplicity, unforgiveness, inhumanity, uncompassionateness, lack of understanding and intense, multiform stupidity that I suffered there, it is sadly crazy.
Yet, there it is, all the same.
Indeed, the only thing, the only time, the only place I miss more is my schools in Kittery (Shapleigh/Mitchell, Frisbee, and Traip Academy-the architectural design of which, the new Marshwood clearly ripped off!); the years 1988-1998....especially 1995-1998; and Kittery itself: the apex of the grand wonder of my childhood and scholastic upbringing (that is, my schooling).
It is highly unfortunate and upsetting that that should be almost as foremost in my mind, heart, soul and memories as the hated time, the horrible years of 2007-2009. Indeed, even 2006 had it's hellish moments, but they were bookended, balanced, leavened or tempered with moments of pure delight and heavenliness; so for the sake of those few scant moments of earthy heaven and ecstasy, I count 2006 as a happy, good year-one of the best of my life, actually. Certainly, for half of it anyway, one of the happiest times of it. Even my childhood and schooling in Kittery wasn't all happiness, glory and roses, or, if it was, they were roses studded with thorns; whose thorny sides hid surreptitiously beneath the pretty red petals, waiting to stab and tear-as even did the most glorious time of all do and did. No; Kittery was not ever really the glorious wonderland, the heaven on Earth, the Eden, that I often make it out to be! But truth be told, it was really more good than bad; I mean, looking back on it, I just don't feel upset or angered that much by any of the thing that went awry. Except one. A girl who was great and who I should have had an active crush on, and who, by the way, though she was, in my opinion, the prettiest, sweetest girl in the class, in our class, the class of 2001, she was attainable....she could have been mine. But no, I had to not even have like a latent crush on her. Not even a secret torch did I carry for her, her who I love now and want, and could have, should have had then. (And for those of you who worked with me at Market Basket no. 56 and are reading this: No; I'm not talking about Brianna Coder! It is someone from my childhood, someone a million times better than her in almost every conceivable way...so, so sorry, Brianna and all those legions of lying, intransigent, unambitious morons who support you as if you wer some fucking celebrity, instead of some girl barely eking out a living toiling in the salt mines that are Market Basket; either that, or, if they are not salt mines, then they are a pit of sheer ignorance, the doldrums, a declivity deep enough below sea level to forever block out the gilded light of the sun...and that, that place is what people who could do better things with their life, that is where they stay, they remain, defiling it and themselves...and ironically, I wish I was there with them!)
I will at least name that girl with whom I should have been in love then, in 1995 or so, not now, when such a desire, when such a want is doomed to utter failure for a grand number of unfortunate reasons...thus, her name is: ; and the rest of her name, shall remain private, if you please.
( Note: Normally, in these I indulge more in description than in narrative, yet here I have done and am doing the opposite, yet it is sensible for this piece, for I meant it to be short and uncluttered. Other things, descriptions of Kittery and places of my childhood will come in future blog entries.)
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