2006-09-05
Blog request 2: Jordan
Jordan
Jordan is the reason why they thought I was "different". Only, they called me "Ms. Quirky" and "Special" because they liked me.
I used to carry a picture of Jordan in my file, until my personality got in the way and misplaced my file some time when I was fourteen (I never got down to replacing it). My best friends knew all about Jordan. We laughed over Jordan, teased Jordan, loved Jordan, got exasperated with Jordan. They knew how much I loved Jordan.
When I was sixteen and a half, Jordan died.
Jordan went quietly. Midweek, I think, but I didn't feel the death till the weekend, and that was when I knew Jordan had died - when I didn't even feel Jordan go.
And Jordan faded with the pages of my diary. Lingering parafin memories became electric images I could plug in and out of.
So today, when I sit at my computer and think about how to fulfil Andy's request, I plug my heart back into Jordan's little tomb.
But I can't qualify who Jordan was, or what Jordan did. Because I realize now that I didn't really know Jordan, or understand Jordan at all.
But this is what I remember.
Jordan asked a lot of questions. A lot of them. Jordan's favourite questions were Why questions. And Jordan could find answers in the strangest places. Silence, sometimes, Jordan swore, gave the best answers - never right, nor wrong, not left, or right.
Jordan didn't know what embarrassment was, or what fear was, for that matter. Jordan was the reason why Project: Questioning Normal came underway. Jordan taught me to let my hair down, to party, to live, and Jordan never let me bear anything alone.
But life with Jordan wasn't always a bed of roses, because Jordan had one fear: to be left alone. Each time I took one step into the arms of other seductions, Jordan would grip my heart with icy accusations and look at me with distress.
And because I couldn't leave Jordan's possessive clutches, I got into a load of trouble, as one usually does when they turn out the shackles of Sensibility.
Jordan died beacause I bedded the world outside.
But sometimes, just sometimes, when I snuggle in the arms of my good friends, I think I can almost feel Jordan's forgiveness.
nothing ever happens at 11:19 p.m.