Many years ago, oh, about forty-two years ago, there was a little boy. He seemed ordinary, according to the people around him, mostly adults. He had an Action Man, a Tomahawk bicycle, and many more of the trappings of a boy. There was no question about his gender, what he would grow up to be, no question about what army department he would end up in. Unfortunately, for his parents, he had other ideas and, for a while, this was not a problem. He knew what he was and what he wanted to do. So, consequently, he ended up in a government establishment studying electronics, and very good at it he became. In fact, he became so good that, by the age of eighteen, he was headhunted by IBM, had inquiries from Intel, turned down an offer from HP and retreated into a small firm repairing stereo systems. He went on to redesign the RS422 standard, work on the first wireless network system and write the precursor to most remote desktop systems.
So, where is this boy now? She is writing this blog.
There is nothing worse than the past. I know there are many things I have done in the past, many things I should be proud of but, I can’t. They were not things I have done. That person has gone, passed into the mists of time. I could lay claim to them but I won’t. He wasn’t me.
Reading this, you may find that you cannot understand. You may find feelings inside you that are alien to you. If so, try to think how I felt, how I feel. I cannot rid myself of them. They are with me day and night, pervading my life. You, dear reader, can lose these feelings by not reading what I write, I cannot. Nor can anyone like me.
How we feel, what we know, is not a choice. It isn’t something we wake up one day and decide. It is with us day to day, night to night, always. You can wake up and choose to go to work, choose to drive or walk, choose to take the bus. So can we but, we cannot choose who and what we are. You can choose to worship at the alter of God or Jesus Christ. So can we. We cannot choose what we know, what we feel.
You can choose to hate us. It’s your choice. We cannot choose not to be hated.
We can only choose to ask you not to hate us. Not to despise us.
We can only ask you to accept us.
If you don’t, that is your choice, not ours.
Passing The Speed Of Light.... 