C

My head whirls with electron orbitals. The elements that make me, make you.

Just a bunch of atoms. I like that. We're nothing really - we're simpler than we think.

A nourishing thought.

I walk down 65th in the blistering rain and wind, a cold hand shakily clutching my umbrella.

I always feel resigned to how much colder it is in Greenlake than it is in beloved Fremont.

Only a 15 minute busride away, and I'm staring at piles of ice on the sidewalk - from the snow that has already disappeared from our paths and driveways - back in sunny, sunny Fremont.

I know nothing about biology. I'm starting from scratch. Studying from an ancient textbook that Ben bought the year I was born. Yes. He was out of college when I was born. :)

I wish I'd paid attention all those very few years ago when I was in high school. Two years of staring out windows in despair, my long, greasy hippy hair hanging around my thin face. Not listening to Mrs Reynolds, because I didn't have an opinion on her. She was just - blank in my mind.

She taught us the periodic table, to the tune of the alphabet song.

'Hydrogen helium boron beryllium oxygen magnesium - AL-U-MINI-UM!'

I've retained nothing much. Just the smell of the old tables in the science classrooms. Just the feeling of being left behind by the kids who applied themselves, who miraculously (or so it seemed) understood.

Bunsen burners and petri dishes. Microscopes. Staring at the fog outside, the drizzle rain, longing for something else - to not be me.

If I give you one of my electrons, we'll have an ionic bond. You and I and table salt.

I'm only on the first chapter of Ben's mouldy old textbook, but I'm already feeling a little disenhearted. College seems so very far away, so very unattainable. I'll need to work fulltime while I go. That's okay, but it's the job that's not.

It's the job that's nonexistent. The empty bank account. The few cents to my name.

One day, I'll get there - I promise you! One day, I'll know the difference between all sorts of atomic bonds!

I'll be rich with knowledge, I'll have a degree, and I'll have a little self-confidence to my name.

Today in therapy, I worked through a memory of my sexual abuse. I told this particular memory over, and over - and then again. And again.

To be de-sensitized.

I was more concerned for my therapist than for myself. How many times can you listen to people repeating, endlessly - their memories of abuse and neglect? How does she not go crazy? How does she not see the people around her, and not venomously hate them for all the terrible things each of us has done to one another?

Over and over again.

'How did you feel at the time?'

'Powerful, almost grateful I was the center of someone's attention.'

'How do you feel now?'

'Strong.'

'How did you feel at the time?'

'Irritated, annoyed. I wanted him to stop.'

'How do you feel now?'

'Afraid, disgusting, ashamed.'

'How did you feel at the time?'

'Angry, helpless, weary.'

'How do you feel now?'

Broken, grieving, a screaming child in my stomach and chest.

'I feel disgusting. My skin is crawling. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin.'

Over and over. And all I can do, is sit captive, eyes closed in her office.

Cars pass outside the window.

I'm tired, oversensitive, I could fall asleep if I turned the lights out in my mind.

But eyes opened again. And we scheduled an appointment for next Tuesday, when I'll brave the Greenlake icyness once more. Underdressed, shivering as I wait for the 26 bus to hurry up and come get me.

Worrying once again, about how little I know about biology.

Worrying that I don't entirely comprehend all this chemistry stuff - it's like math, it's just too logical for me.

I like to complicate things.

Then again, all I am is a bunch of atoms, and all you are is a bunch of atoms.

These songs come to you from Rex, a Brooklyn band from the 90s. C is their second album, and cited to be their best, though for me, this awaits to proven.
They were Curtis Harvey, Phil Spirito and Doug Scharin.
There isn't a whole lot of info out there on the internet about them. I do know from my super-sleuthing that they were an invaluable part of the Slowcore movement, and that this album came out in '96. The rest is sort of mysterious and murky, and no - there were no music videos made, so we 21st century lot are left with our imaginings set to these lush songs. I have no idea what became of them post '98. Where ever they are I hope they're happy.

I'm very glad that the atoms and molecules that make up each member of Rex decided to covalently bond in a non-polar sort of way, and create this absolute beauty. It is simple, but not minimalist - it is extraordinary, yet understated. Complete and utter stunningly bad 90s hair awesomeness!
Enjoy.