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Intellectually Sandpapered
May. 4th, 2002 09:59 amI used to live with a guy named Rory.
Technically, this is innacurate. Technically, I was still living with my then-recently-ex-girlfriend, Raine, but she was going through an absentee/emotionally-abusive-when-present phase that I didn't have much patience for no matter how much I cared for her, and so I found myself largely on the futon of Rory, with vacations to the sofas of Jamie, Nick, and Carrie, and occasionally the spare bed of Lauren or the windowseat of Diggs.
My friend (Raine's friend) Vergil viewed this with great trepidation. To a degree, this stemmed from her distaste for nomadicism; she was someone who could not sleep anywhere but her own bed and demanded full control of her environment at all times. To a degree, it paralelled her concern for me & Raine.
Mostly, though, she was an empath who found Rory's room terrifying -- especially the futon. As much as she liked Rory, she could not ever visit him without facing hallucinations and panic attacks and fleeing the building.
"It has a bad aura," she said.
I never experienced the same discomfort. To me, Rory's room was the most comfortable place in the entire world -- as close to a sanctuary as I've ever had, aside from Clinton House. Sure, there were bits of raw magic lying around, but they were no trouble if you were used to channelling energy. Certainly, I picked up a particularly malicious vampire at the time, (the non-corporeal kind that are a bitch to deal with; and since we initially misidentified it, we threw up a half-dozen shields around me, thereby locking the damn thing in (understandable mistake)). Unquestionably, the world became less sure of itself around Rory -- he was a rogue mage who couldn't ground himself for shit.
Nevertheless, I was happier in that place than almost anywhere else, ever.
The reason I am telling this story is that I finally figured out why I loved it and Vergil hated it. It wasn't about sex, which was Raine's leading theory, and it wasn't about drugs, which was Lauren's. It wasn't even about a need for control -- not entirely. They were all pieces of the same coin: freedom. Rory's room was a pocket of freedom, something most people spend their entire lives running from. It's the monster with a heart of fire, which will sear you as soon as warm you.
I cannot end this entry cleanly.
Technically, this is innacurate. Technically, I was still living with my then-recently-ex-girlfriend, Raine, but she was going through an absentee/emotionally-abusive-when-present phase that I didn't have much patience for no matter how much I cared for her, and so I found myself largely on the futon of Rory, with vacations to the sofas of Jamie, Nick, and Carrie, and occasionally the spare bed of Lauren or the windowseat of Diggs.
My friend (Raine's friend) Vergil viewed this with great trepidation. To a degree, this stemmed from her distaste for nomadicism; she was someone who could not sleep anywhere but her own bed and demanded full control of her environment at all times. To a degree, it paralelled her concern for me & Raine.
Mostly, though, she was an empath who found Rory's room terrifying -- especially the futon. As much as she liked Rory, she could not ever visit him without facing hallucinations and panic attacks and fleeing the building.
"It has a bad aura," she said.
I never experienced the same discomfort. To me, Rory's room was the most comfortable place in the entire world -- as close to a sanctuary as I've ever had, aside from Clinton House. Sure, there were bits of raw magic lying around, but they were no trouble if you were used to channelling energy. Certainly, I picked up a particularly malicious vampire at the time, (the non-corporeal kind that are a bitch to deal with; and since we initially misidentified it, we threw up a half-dozen shields around me, thereby locking the damn thing in (understandable mistake)). Unquestionably, the world became less sure of itself around Rory -- he was a rogue mage who couldn't ground himself for shit.
Nevertheless, I was happier in that place than almost anywhere else, ever.
The reason I am telling this story is that I finally figured out why I loved it and Vergil hated it. It wasn't about sex, which was Raine's leading theory, and it wasn't about drugs, which was Lauren's. It wasn't even about a need for control -- not entirely. They were all pieces of the same coin: freedom. Rory's room was a pocket of freedom, something most people spend their entire lives running from. It's the monster with a heart of fire, which will sear you as soon as warm you.
I cannot end this entry cleanly.
