PEYTON PLACE

I'm not comfortable with drama. Some people who purport to know me may disagree, but they're very, very wrong. From a wee child, to this very day, I constantly find myself embroiled in it. It seems to be a favourite past-time of many.

I recall so many times as a teenager, imbibing in underage experimental (experimental to my friends - I was a well-seasoned drunk by then) drinking, frequently in a park-like setting, when one of the cronic drama queens would begin her wailing and flailing. Probably over a boy, or a perceived slight from one of the others in attendence. I doubt it really mattered. The attention was always the goal. I've always thought it undignified to publically display that kind of mental anguish, but apparently I'm repressed. Or have a touch more class. That is wide open for debate. Regardless, once the ugly emotion gate has been kicked open, it's hard to contain the animals within. Much chaos would aways ensue. Bawling, screeching, running as if being chased by demons, it's all part of the game. There are safety issues with the latter. My friend Tiziana almost got hit by a cab tearing across a road during one of her episodes. So this leads me to my role, one I've practised and perfected over the years. There has to be a calm, soothing, rational voice to stop the nonsense. It would be easy to roll my eyes and walk away, but I've never been comfortable with that. My fault. Some genetic disorder perhaps. A friend recently told me that I get something out of it too, so it's not pure. Sure I do. I do feel good when I diffuse a situation, or soothe the anguish of a friend. I get to sleep at night knowing that I tried to help. I'm not okay sitting by watching others fall, whether from imaginary or real situations. It's not for everyone, but it's for me.

This part of my personality frequently causes backlash, the kill the messenger thing, but I accept that as the inevitable downside. If I am going to enjoy the afterglow of a success, then I have to be prepared for the misguided anger that sometimes follows.

Now the hard part - what draws these type of people to me, or am I drawn to them and if so, why? Well, I haven't a clue. Apparently I have more homework to do.

D.

P.S. I wrote this over a month ago, but couldn't seem to finish it - the words just wouldn't come. The last line is the only new addition. Since then, I have realized that each passing moment I find myself a little less dignified and a little more dramatic. I'm hoping it's because I'm finally loosening up and being more honest, or maybe I'm just a big loser. The jury is still out on this one. Oh, woe is me and my circle.