Some Background
I am a magnet. According to the wikipedia, I am what is known as a permanent magnet because I occur naturally, not depending on any outside influences for my magnetism. Rain or shine, cold or hot, day or night, I’m a magnet. While consistency could be a comfort, there being no escape is a nuisance.
A material that is strongly attracted to a magnet is said to have a high permeability, meaning that this type of material can penetrate or absorb something with extreme intensity. The material that consumes me is whatever is inside of FREAKS. And by freaks, I mean mutants, anomalies, misfits. According to the dictionary, a freak can be an abnormally formed person. That about sums it up.
My magnetism is physical and, come to find out, supernatural as well. My numerological and astrological analyses both say I attract odd people for “research”. That the universe generously and endlessly supplies me with subjects to study, analyze, discuss, and attempt to understand because I enjoy this sort of thing. Attempt? Meaning I’ll never understand them? Well, that’s that, I suppose. These freaks are technically my peeps!!
According to the Law of Attraction, we attract what we think about. I admit that I do think about the freaks around me a lot. They’re just so annoying. They creep in. They’re sneaky and tricky and relentless. I don’t have the audacity to think that I suffer from anything, because there’s too much real and terrible suffering in the world, so I won’t say I suffer from magnetism, but I can and do claim a silent rage. Until now, that is.
I have decided to write them letters. Here. I won’t actually send them, because, despite what seems apparent - that they love me and would be thrilled to hear from me - from my experience, they actually hate to talk to me in person. They don’t even like for me to look at them. It’s odd, because they can't recognize their own freaky behavior, but they're able to sense the vibe of my frustrations and want to avoid me, because after all, whatever my problem could be, it's my responsibility and my own damn fault.
I can hope that the electromagnetic waves of the writing process will somehow connect with their freaky little brains, just so they know that I recognize and acknowledge them and wouldn’t mind if they found someone else to burden with their freakiness.
Then again, I am the permanent kind. So I must face it. I’m guaranteed that more freaky behavior is yet to come. More letters to be written and not sent. I know they go nowhere, but I feel better just writing them, similar, I guess, to the feeling people get when they write letters to Santa or God. Throwing something out to the Universe in hopes that something good will happen. Maybe my magnetism will decrease or maybe they'll fly away or maybe I just won't notice them so much?
I do recommend this exercise to all magnets. I have found that past encounters with freaks tend to become entertaining (the current exposure is not yet funny) at least. Finding humor in the situation is much better than going to jail for assault. In fact, I’d like to start a campaign: a collective imaginary letter-writing campaign to all freaks. Maybe we could interrupt the magnetic force for a minute or two.
Dear Freak,
About your Freakiness…..
Situational Magnetism
Now, I’m no horn-tooter, never have been, never will be. But I know what you’re thinking. We’re all magnets for weirdos. We’ve all been tailgated by someone on an empty four-lane highway. We’ve all had someone steal a parking lot space. We’ve all been blindsided by someone cutting in line ahead of us. We’ve all heard a screaming baby throughout an entire movie, school performance or church service. But, I’m special. Seriously. You’ll see.
More to come.....