The Bostonian Abroad

For a long while, I had been feeling afraid. At the same time, I was also feeling insecure, and down on myself for my many supposed failings. I chastised myself for every aspect of my flawed existence, and only saw things in a negative way. I think this was a necessary journey for me to get to where I am now. And where is that? Acceptance, for lack of a better term. What I mean by this is that I reached a point recently when it all became so much, that it blew itself out. I had had enough, and I moved on. The big thing I had been fearing was inevitable, and realizing this simple truth was very liberating. Now, I am shifting my focus, quite naturally, to things that have always interested me, but that I had ignored or stashed away due to circumstance or narrowmindedness. No more, I am allowing the natural progression to move me where it will, within reason, of course. The most powerful trend these days is towards the more masculine side of my character. For a long while, I have...

Recent events have reacquainted me with a certain aspect of my father's that he passed down to me and my sisters: his temper. He is legendary for his anger, and what damage he does to others when he is in his rage, and I fear this in me, try to distance myself from it, and yet count on it in certain ways. When I was a kid, I was always told of how much of a completely homicidal maniac he can be when truly furious, and I always took these stories as warnings for my future. One story in particular is pretty illuminating of the type of rageful ability the man had: The day I was born, he was at a phone booth, trying to call the hospital to find out how my mother was doing. He had just gotten off work as a crane operator, and was anxious to get in touch with the hospital to find out if she had had yet another girl, or the much hoped for boy. At that moment, someone shoved his head from behind, causing his face to slam into the metal receiver for the phone. He turned around in a haze...