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Tales of the Mundane - Are we not men?
Tales of the Mundane
Three tales, each one sets up the next.

When I was about 12, everything was boring. TV shows that I had loved for years were boring. Movies that I saw were boring. I was desperate to experience creativity, and experience adult life. As most adolescents are.
So, I created a story. A story of my favorite tv/movies. A Mary-Sue of epic proportions. At first, I wrote it all down. In fact, I think I wrote most of it down. I enjoyed writing. Somewhere, I'm sure this epic tale survives. I put myself into the storyline, and of course I was a major player. And of course, I was the love-interest of the character I had a crush on. (that would be Chekov, from Star Trek, just so you know :) I would lull myself to sleep at night by thinking of the next chapter in the story. I spent time that would otherwise have been spent in front of the TV writing it all down. I carried a clipboard with notebook paper in it to write whenever there was downtime.
I still keep at least one running story in my head. They're not always about tv or movies, and they're not always starring ME, and those that do certainly don't include ME as THE CHOSEN ONE or some hype. I lull myself to sleep at night with these stories. If I don't have one, I end up wondering if I turned off the coffeepot or if my sister is doing OK or if Holly really did her homework. Things that are not conducive to sleep. Thus, I use fiction. It's like reading before bed, but I'm making it up, and I don't have to wear my glasses in bed.

When I was in high school, there was this one girl in the band who wasn't very popular. Not like, got beat up or anything, our high school wasn't like that. Just, she was kinda mousey and didn't get much attention from the boys.
She had a major crush on the young assistant band director. But she honestly believed she was having an affair with him. She would tell of how they were lying on top of her car, looking up at the stars. She would talk about how she would sneak out of her house at night to meet him in a midnight rendezvous. Her stories had so much detail and knowledge, they were almost impossible to distinguish from reality. Unless you knew both of them. The young, cute band director was actually about 30, and married. And very very conservative. The girl in question was shy and boring. We checked up on her stories once, because as children, sure, we didn't know for sure. (just like how we didn't know if that one guy was gay, or just effeminate. Yaright.)
If she had been given a lie detector test, she would have passed. Lie detectors only determine if a person is willfully telling fibs. She honestly believed these things were happening. She was making up her own fantasies, as I was above, but she believed them. She even believed that he had a ring for her, that he was saving until she graduated high school.
The creepy side to all of this, aside from an obviously delusional teen, is that she knew where he lived. She knew when he went out, and when he came home, and when his wife went out and when she came home. She either spied on him nonstop, or lived across the street. Whatever it was, she believed with every fiber of her being that he and she were in love.

Judyth Vary Baker, to be exact. Look her up on the internet. She is delusional like Heather, but her delusion is that she was Lee Harvey Oswald's mistress. She claims that she worked on the project to create a cancer cell that would kill Castro. This is, of course, on the heels of the book Mary, Ferrie, and the Monkey Virus which is about secret government laboratory experiments in the early 60s. The book came out several years ago, but still very recent.
Her claims would have been believable, except that nobody knows who she is. The president was killed. The FBI edited newspaper articles. The investigators talked to everyone who might have known Oswald. According to Baker, the landlady of her small apartment in New Orleans would warn the lovers if someone was coming, such as Mr. Baker. The landlady "liked Lee". This was not a private affair. And yet, the investigators didn't find out he had a mistress?
The most embarrassingly telling part of her story was the alleged last time she spoke with Oswald. She claimed he said something about how great kids are, and then said "Have babies. Have babies for me."
Do I even need to say anything there?
She told that, and then her next line was "And I did. I had five babies."
That's just creepy. It's as if she took her nighttime story and decided it was real. The really scary part is that she fantasizes about Lee Harvey Oswald. Even if he didn't kill Kennedy, he was no prize catch. If he hadn't been killed, she probably would have stalked him for years. I find it especially interesting that anyone who could collaborate her story is dead. Convenient, nee? Plus, a tell-all book about the secret laboratory she wished she was working in helps make her story credible. I'm not buying it. It's very very creepy. I can't believe she got an hour of airtime for her delusions.
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Teacher said not to.
Date: November 22nd, 2003 - 05:26 pm
This runs very close to what i've discovered in my American Lit class this semester: Everybody's delusional somehow.

I'm still trying to figure out my delusions. It's surprisingly tricky to tease out which things you believe are false and which aren't.
Can you feel the love?
Date: November 22nd, 2003 - 05:35 pm
I think the dangerous delusions are ones that involve people that aren't onesself. Common is the delusion a parent has that is often characterized as "not MY child!"
The delusion that is seen in cartoons when the portly man looks in the mirror and sees an adonis, that one I think is not dangerous. But perhaps that view is my own delusion.
2 droids -- Spew an android