Who am I really?

I know there's questions on who I am.
I know some people who read this, and they don't know it's me. I've even been passed the link....

So let's go back to the beginning..... All the way back to the beginning. Because who I am is not a name. It isn't a photograph. It's me. All of me.

The earliest I can remember clearly is sitting at home watching sesame street. I was too young to go to school, and I was waiting for my older sister to come home. My mother was in the kitchen making apple crumble, which I didn't eat, but I loved helping make it. Breaking up biscuits to go in the bowl, watching Mum peel the apples, the apple peel reaching to the floor in one long spiral.
This was in Murwillumbah, the small town I grew up in.

It was a beautiful house, and I lived there, right next to the Pacific Motorway with my mother, father, and older sister. Years later I would find out unsettling things about this. But for now, these were the occupants.

My room was at the back of the house, and I had 2 windows, one looking out the backyard and onto acres of canefields. And the other looked across at the neighbour's house.
You may think I had a noisy home, but we didn't. Carpetted floors and lots of room kept the noise we all made to ourselves, and the houses opposite the freeway were down a hill, so any noise from cars and trucks simply went over us.

Our loungeroom was large, and on the front corner of the house. Exactly opposite my room. I used to sit in there and play games on some video game system we had, or I would watch movies or listen to records.
My favourite videotape had film clips on it.
Some I knew for sure we watched are :
Summer Loving - Grease SOundtrack
We built this city - Starship

I loved the film clip for starship, these enormous cities I had never seen before, people dancing and singing on the street, and being chased by enormous fluffy dice, rolling down the road behind them.
I was hooked, it was loud and wild and incredibly exciting.
The presence of Starship places us in 1985, I was 6 at this stage, so firmly going to school.
It's difficult to piece things together at this point, there are 27 years of memories to sort, and at that age, MANY MANY things were of no significance to me.

While we are looking at music, I used to go to my Nana's house every second weekend. (we took it in turns) and she used to let me watch one of her video's.
It was a Tom Jones concert. Tom sang and danced around a huge fancy stage with some scantily clad women. I think this is one of the moments that defined where I see women.

They were beautiful, stunningly so, like you would imagine a pile of gold and jewels. I remember thinking how happy they all looked. They were dressed up (I knew this wasn't normaly daywear from things I saw) and they were so happy. Tom made them happy, they were happy singing and dancing and I loved them all.
Also worth noting, and I'm very confident of this, none of them were sticks. Real women, they had curves, which I would come to appreciate later in life......... But I was enthralled with them and their feathers and glitter and jewels.

I wanted one day to give women jewels, and feathers and glittery underwear (I don't think this one works anymore) and to make them happy. Didn't everyone deserve to be happy.

So there I was, no more than 8 years old, enthralled at watching Tom dance and sing and suddenly the flood started. Water was pouring down the stage Tom was on, It cascaded down the stairs, missed the women by inches, missed Tom, washed away a little bridge he'd just danced across and carried on.

Now THAT's showmanship.

Tomorrow we go to school.
It's not unusual to be loved by anyone, it is unusual to be only a guest.