28 July 2001 ~ Secrets, submission, and selflessness...

Have successfully moved the bulk of my crap to the new apartment. Thanks to my mom and Penny and my brothers and some of their friends: a jolly gang of move-happy people. Very, very generous move-happy people.

I've been having second thoughts like crazy about this whole thing. I don't have any idea how I'm going to live with a housemate again. I've already noticed some areas of real tension. Tensions that weren't really there before. But now it's too late. Now I'm sort of stuck here for awhile; the third floor is awfully damned hard to leave, once you've successfully gotten up there... So I shall make the best of it.

Have been thinking a great deal about trust. And lack thereof.

I have a great quantity of money in the house. Well, maybe not a GREAT quantity. Actually, no, it's not, by any stretch of the imagination, a GREAT quantity. But it's rent for two months. And only two people --to my knowledge -- know where that money is hidden. One of them is my mother. The other is zillions of miles away and could be trusted with my life-savings, my computer passwords, and my heart if I chose to give him those things. And one other person, who is also zillions of miles away, would certainly be able to locate that secret hiding place; but I'd trust him with my life too. The secret hiding place, in fact, was created with this last person in mind; it feels quite safe to feel as though he is standing guard over something important to me.

I feel a little guilty about having such secrets. I feel as though I am betraying a few of my dearest friends by not letting them in on the secret. Aaron, for example. I love Aaron just about more than anybody, and he DOES know just about everything about me. He's safe. He's not out to get me. If I've ever been sure of anything in my life, it's that Aaron would never intentionally hurt me. And in fact, should anything ever happen to me, I have a packet of relevent information that Aaron alone would be the recipient of: addresses, medical information, contacts, passwords, hiding places, EVERYTHING. So why am I insecure about the money? Do I not know Aaron well enough to be sure he would not steal from me?

Wow, that just sounds AWFUL. Man, am I a lousy friend or what.

And Norman. I love Norman quite dearly. And I feel a little guilty that there are things I cannot share with him. Norman would not set out to hurt me. Norman, for all his quirks and faults, does love me. But I cannot trust him with certain things, as I could not trust Peter with certain things, though I knew we loved each other. Hand Norman a twenty, and it'll be very difficult to get it back. Pass Norman a bottle, and you'll get it back empty. Ask Norman his age, and he'll straight-out lie to you. He's a good person, a very loving person. And if you catch him in some small behavior that doesn't seem quite right, and you confront him, he'll probably tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He'll probably be a little nasty and over-defensive about it, but you'll get the truth. Still... six hundred dollars... hidden... No, if Norman knew where that six hundred dollars was, it would begin to dwindle: five-hundred-eighty, five-hundred-sixty, five-hundred-forty... If I said, "Norman, I have six-hundred dollars in a shoebox in my room, but please don't take it," it would slowly disappear. No, that's not necessarily true. Don't read this wrong. He might never even peek into that shoebox. But I am NOT willing to take that chance. For trust is a risky business, and this would simply be too much of a risk. Too much of a temptation.

And so what is it that makes a person trustworthy? I'd say it's in the eyes... No, no, I'm kidding. I don't know what it is. I haven't any idea why, once, in an email to a dear friend, I typed my password into a series of asterisks at the end of the email. The POWER that that person now has over me, if he discovers the proper use of that combination of letters! The things he could DO to me! What was I THINKING?

I was thinking, he loves me... he is a friends... he has no reason to hurt me... he would not ever hurt me... It was a sort of pact. It was a blood-siblings pact: I open my skin and I give you a part of me, my blood, my password, to show you that I believe we are loyal to each other. It was a sort of symbolic submission. It was an expression of devotion.

Trust is submissive, yes. But it's NOT weakness in any way. It is rejection of fear. It is rejection of paranoia. It is having the guts to believe in someone else. Rather difficult for someone who's been taught time and time again that people who seem to care for you do NOT always care for you.

...Oh, and just FYI... The six hundred dollars is NOT in a shoebox, and if you don't know where to look, you'd NEVER find it, and I mean never. And also, in case you were wondering -- and I know it's been mentioned before -- I have never spoken my password aloud, to anyone. And it's never appeared in this journal, ever, anywhere, not even in some secret hidden place. I have lots and lots of hidden places, see: entries that aren't linked, words that were not meant to be seen, folders full of stupid old love letters that I'd prefer nobody ever read, emails full of deep dark confessions that I don't want anybody to ever see, money that's MINE and mine alone, private little events recorded in private little books, naked pictures, naked poetry, confessionals that don't ever go anywhere...

In fact, the whole world is NOT out to get me. For the most part, I think a lot of people are on my side. I think most of humanity is pretty decent at heart. BUT. It's incredibly dangerous to tempt people. You leave your money in a coffee jar in the kitchen and you tell everybody about it, and no matter how much people care about you, it's going to start dwindling. You give people the keys to your super-secret locked chest, and they're going to sneak a peek. You leave your special bottle of vanilla vodka in the fridge and say, "hands off," and it's going to get opened and a few sips are going to be missing. You say, "Can I tell you a HUGE secret and you can't ever tell?" and it's not going to be much of a secret for long.

That is, for the most part. I know a few secrets I've never told. I know a few passwords I'll never use. And I know very well how to rip off the CD store in the mall without getting caught, but I'll be good and not do it. And there are just a very few people out there who are honest-to-gahd nothing more than good people with excellent willpower and gentle selflessness.

I have to get going; I'm starving and I've got some killer tuna casserole in the fridge...

With love,
~Helena*