The Weaver

Yesterday was Peterpops’ 19th birthday. To celebrate, she invited a couple of close friends over. We played Rock Band and watched Superbad. We also drank – just a little – and caught up.

See, back in middle school I hung out with Peterpops and the other two girls that were there a lot. They are awesome girls with wicked personalities and we always have a blast together. Life has a funny way though of making you get caught up in it, so unfortunately we don’t talk as much as we used to – but I’d really like to change that.

Anyways, I found out a lot about myself. I’ve known two of the girls since we started school. We always used to play together, and last night the three of them were talking about me – as a child. Apparently, I would tell them elaborate stories about really creepy things – even when I was little – and they would believe me because of the way I have with words. I was told that I have a way of drawing people in. One of the girls can remember always wondering why I didn’t play nice games; and why every time they came over I ended up scaring them with my stories.

She told me one time I told her about the guy who was kidnapping kids in my neighbourhood. We started a detective agency to catch the bad guy and solve the mysteries of the kidnaps. She swears I had her convinced that there actually was a kidnapper and we really did need to solve the crime. Peterpops hates it when I talk about ghosts and spirits, because she can’t tell if I’m joking or not when I tell her that my house is haunted by a little girl who likes to open and close the family room door.

I was given props by one of the girls; she has witnessed me in action “weaving” a group of people. She says that with my words and the aura I have about me, I can make anybody believe anything. I can make them think something is happening when it isn’t.

Thinking about it now, it’s so true! There have been so many occasions when I started a story to scare someone and ended up believing in it myself. Like at my grade 9 birthday party; I had my entire group of friends believing that we were going to heal me (I had just had a surgery) with a magical spell so I could dance again.

This definitely explains a lot about grade nine. Such as one of my finer tales; the bodies of the woods. One day, a bunch of us were hanging out in the creepy little forest near the new subdivision in town. Lots of kids hung out here; there were jumps set up for bikes on the hill and old beer cans and such. It was a really interesting forest too, so it was easy to get myself and everyone caught up in the belief that someone had been brutally murdered in this forest and their spirit was roaming free, looking for revenge. Through the power of suggestion, I had them seeing bodies in a tree; feeling the presence of our brutally murdered spirit; and feeling as if something was out to get us.

Interesting, huh? One girl says she doesn’t doubt that I will write good stories; as I tell them so well, but in order to actually get caught up in it, you would have to be around me as I spin them. She thinks its because when I have everyone else so convinced that things are happening, I’ll start believing them too. That way it’s impossible to doubt.

I guess this explains why I wasn’t so popular in school. People feared me because I didn’t exactly play nice; I sort of manipulated the game, not in a bad way, but in an interesting, rather dark way. I have always been like this…and I subconsciously didn’t even realize I had that affect on people. I honestly didn’t believe that people actually believed the crap I was telling them, I honestly just thought they were going along with the story for shits and giggles.

At least there is hope for me as a writer, eh?

There is something else that was said last night that has me thinking; that I will never thrive in a small town environment because the people just aren’t interesting. I don’t connect well with a lot of people because I am wired so differently that it’s hard to relate to them. These girls and I have always sort of been kindred spirits; all of us are crazy and creative in our own ways. We sort of dance to a different tune.

I’ve been thinking about that because it’s very true; I didn’t do so well at that small town college because everybody I met was not interesting to me. Like sure, they were nice people…but they just couldn’t captivate me. The environment was too unstimulating, and I really do need a stimulating environment to thrive. I really don’t know how I am going to do going to the community college when the people there are really not interesting. I already know everybody and I am friends with all the people that I can be friends with.

I have always known that I was different; that’s why I don’t really have a huge history of boyfriends. Yes, I’m pretty…but I’m different. I have and always will dance to a different beat. I hear and see things differently. I process things differently.

So I am worried now, that I won’t enjoy college at a community college. One of the girl’s says she absolutely loves going to the city for school because there is a wider variety of people and it’s easier to find people that she can relate to (she has the same problem as me). The appeal of attending college in a city is definitely growing more and more as I think about it. I want to meet people I can relate to. I want to meet interesting, captivating people who can keep me stimulated and therefore on track.

I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes. So far, I have been accepted for a college that’s very close to a big city…so my parents don’t want me to go because they are worried I’ll get hurt or something.

But I think I’ve rambled enough for today. I should probably go and do something else now 🙂

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P.S. My Blog totally got a makeover! All thanks to Karen! 😀

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About J.C. Hannigan

25. Mother. Wife. Lover of words. Weaver of stories. My first book, Collide, is available in e-book for Amazon Kindle and Kobo.
This entry was posted in growing up, lessons, opinions, rainbows and butterflies, ranting, updates. Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to The Weaver

  1. Anonymous says:

    <![CDATA[Lemonade; thanks, so do I! My cousin loves me :D]]>

  2. Anonymous says:

    <![CDATA[I wasn’t aware you did, MAT. Does it matter? The original art is by Gracjana Zielinska and it has been used with permission and with proper credit.
    ]]>

  3. Pingback: Sarcastica » Out of the Ordinary - Part One

  4. Pingback: The Weaver: Part 2 | The Bottle Chronicles

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