I have been a very naughty girl lately. Midweek cocktails, not eating, smoking like a chimney; the usual behavior when I am doing mental gymnastics. I am like some kind of manic animal, searching high and low, running from the quiet like my life depends on it.
What exactly am I running away from, or toward? That is the question, isn't it? It is as though wires have somehow been crossed in my mind, with the tsunami going on up there, it is really no big surprise. The solace I usually find in the silence has been replaced by a near desperate need to fill it. I play music at work and at home, though I am not spending much time there lately either. Perhaps it was the roaring silence that kept me up all night on Sunday.
I am the type of person who likes to have the answers. I suppose the fact is, I'm overloaded. Like a computer overheating, my mind just has too many variables floating around in it and not enough constants. It is certainly hard to find answers with a combination like that.
Well, my calendar is full, my play list is pumping and I am about as clear as a binge drinker on a particularly gregarious night. What a mess! Focus, Focus, Focus Fi! Through the haze of my mind only one answer slurs out: "I don't know".
I don't know what? Who fucking knows. It is just one of those seasons, they certainly come around with a perplexing irregularity. Maybe when I am ready to face the silence, face the questions, I will find that which I am simultaneously looking for and running from. Until then, I will try to not beat myself up too badly, physically or mentally!
I am full of shit.
I just turned off the music, and there it was. Waiting for me like a cornered tiger preparing to be snared. I know what I am avoiding. It terrifies and confuses me. It is a problem with no good solution and I am just not ready to face it yet. So I am going to turn my music back on, close my eyes, and back slowly out of that room.
Why is it that life won't take care of our biggest conundrums for us? When did life get so damned complicated? My compass is spinning and my heart is turned upside down. No wonder I feel so out of control. Welcome to beautiful 2010, no one said it was going to be easy!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
Deafening Silence
I recently purchased the newest in communication technology. This fabulous device is basically a brilliant little computer, waiting breathlessly to offer up answers to any query and alert me instantly of any message waiting to be received or voice to be heard. I also have three e-mail accounts, text messaging and the all important cellphone feature.
The one dreary fact I did not realize accompanied this new friend was the way it makes the silence even more deafening when it sits idle.
It's not his fault, my little Droid, it is me. (Yes, I still have a shred of sanity left. I have not started picking fights with inanimate objects!) I am waiting for one message in particular, one ghostly voice to answer from the void of silence it has been shrouded in. I have questions, I want answers. At this point any answer would do, I just can't stand the roar of silence anymore!
Yes, the addition of my favorite new toy has turned-up the volume on this distinctly loud version of quiet. Ah, the waiting game, I know this one! I should be quite deft at it by now. Funny how the games we know the best are the ones that continue to confound us. Here's to this round: may the best side of me win!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
The Steely Sheen of the Fairer Sex
One of my favorite movie lines comes from the 1955 film The Tender Trap:
"You want a girl. That's what you all want -- a girl. And that's what you can never have, because the only way to have a girl is not to marry her, because then she becomes a wife. That's something entirely different." -Sylvia Crews
What is the difference between being a girl and being a woman? Is it becoming a mother, or a wife, or a particular age? I believe that you become a woman when you begin to realize that life is not black and white, that hard choices have to be made, and you assume your role as a protector.
You see, there is a ferocious mother bear in every woman. This instinct is not reserved for children, but encompasses spouses, friends, disadvantaged strangers, and above all, yourself. A woman learns early on that though the brawn of man may be greater, no one will really protect her when she needs it the most, no one else can be relied upon for survival. That job is entirely her own. Biologically we may be wired this way for very practical reasons, the most basic instinct of any animal is to survive and reproduce. These two things would be very difficult if a mother was reliant on her mate.
So it goes, the theme of womanhood seems to be all around me. Watching a documentary on Burt and Linda Pugach, a story of a beautiful girl brutally burned and blinded by her spurned lover who 14 years later marries just that man, to me is not a story about love but about becoming a woman. Linda survived, she lived her life bravely and joyously until her sight left her completely and she realized her best option was to take back this lunatic who had become her only true option as a caregiver and provider. (This being the 1960's women were much less empowered to provide for themselves, especially disabled ones.)
Whether it is single mothers and college girls stripping for money, Hillary Clinton braving matrimonial humiliation to reach her political ends, Afghani women sustaining beatings to protect each other or simply a wife who would rather sleep with her husband than break his heart by revealing her disdain for him; women do what needs to be done every day. Our choices may seem calculating and cold, but I say that they are merely our biology taking over. Girls aimlessly follow their hearts, women have the burden of balancing their hearts and their minds.
Though I chase youth like the carrot-on-the-end-of-a-stick, the fact is, I became a woman a long time ago. Perhaps this is why I lack shame and regret, I see my choices not as bad, but as human. Though sacrifice comes naturally to me, I am a ferocious protector, and the cub that has been with me the longest is me.
"You want a girl. That's what you all want -- a girl. And that's what you can never have, because the only way to have a girl is not to marry her, because then she becomes a wife. That's something entirely different." -Sylvia Crews
What is the difference between being a girl and being a woman? Is it becoming a mother, or a wife, or a particular age? I believe that you become a woman when you begin to realize that life is not black and white, that hard choices have to be made, and you assume your role as a protector.
You see, there is a ferocious mother bear in every woman. This instinct is not reserved for children, but encompasses spouses, friends, disadvantaged strangers, and above all, yourself. A woman learns early on that though the brawn of man may be greater, no one will really protect her when she needs it the most, no one else can be relied upon for survival. That job is entirely her own. Biologically we may be wired this way for very practical reasons, the most basic instinct of any animal is to survive and reproduce. These two things would be very difficult if a mother was reliant on her mate.
So it goes, the theme of womanhood seems to be all around me. Watching a documentary on Burt and Linda Pugach, a story of a beautiful girl brutally burned and blinded by her spurned lover who 14 years later marries just that man, to me is not a story about love but about becoming a woman. Linda survived, she lived her life bravely and joyously until her sight left her completely and she realized her best option was to take back this lunatic who had become her only true option as a caregiver and provider. (This being the 1960's women were much less empowered to provide for themselves, especially disabled ones.)
Whether it is single mothers and college girls stripping for money, Hillary Clinton braving matrimonial humiliation to reach her political ends, Afghani women sustaining beatings to protect each other or simply a wife who would rather sleep with her husband than break his heart by revealing her disdain for him; women do what needs to be done every day. Our choices may seem calculating and cold, but I say that they are merely our biology taking over. Girls aimlessly follow their hearts, women have the burden of balancing their hearts and their minds.
Though I chase youth like the carrot-on-the-end-of-a-stick, the fact is, I became a woman a long time ago. Perhaps this is why I lack shame and regret, I see my choices not as bad, but as human. Though sacrifice comes naturally to me, I am a ferocious protector, and the cub that has been with me the longest is me.
Happy
I have been bemused lately at my own state of happiness. It is not the overwhelming giddy feeling you get when something wonderful is happening, it is more solid, unencumbered by the usual dread of loss that usually accompanies these sensations. The happiness I currently possess is different, not a result of fate or good fortune, but something I attained, something I created.
I was unhappy, so I changed things. I took stock of those things that where missing in my life and rather than hoping or wishing they would magically appear, I went out and found them. So often we assume that the things we desire are out of our control, finding out how much actually is within our ambitious reach is a huge comfort for a control freak like me. Conversely, learning which things are not is my greatest sense of peace.
My life is not perfect, the turmoil in my heart and mind has not subsided, but it is thrashing under a soft blanket of happiness that seems to overpower the pain and anxiousness. The voice in my mind is whispering even now warnings, convinced that when happiness appears the storm is soon to follow. I can quiet this voice with the simple fact that the storm is already here, I have just found a way to rise above it.
Do I still get sad? Do I find myself in states of darkness? Of course. These annals of my life are proof of that. But somehow it doesn't matter so much anymore. The happiness is winning. For the first time in my life, it has the upper hand. I have the upper hand.
I chose to relish the joys and the pains until they both become mere threads woven together in the tapestry of my beautiful life.
I was unhappy, so I changed things. I took stock of those things that where missing in my life and rather than hoping or wishing they would magically appear, I went out and found them. So often we assume that the things we desire are out of our control, finding out how much actually is within our ambitious reach is a huge comfort for a control freak like me. Conversely, learning which things are not is my greatest sense of peace.
My life is not perfect, the turmoil in my heart and mind has not subsided, but it is thrashing under a soft blanket of happiness that seems to overpower the pain and anxiousness. The voice in my mind is whispering even now warnings, convinced that when happiness appears the storm is soon to follow. I can quiet this voice with the simple fact that the storm is already here, I have just found a way to rise above it.
Do I still get sad? Do I find myself in states of darkness? Of course. These annals of my life are proof of that. But somehow it doesn't matter so much anymore. The happiness is winning. For the first time in my life, it has the upper hand. I have the upper hand.
I chose to relish the joys and the pains until they both become mere threads woven together in the tapestry of my beautiful life.
Holding Pattern
I'm ready, poised for action, strong and determined! But like a racehorse with his mussel to the gate, all I am really doing at this moment is waiting. It is not idle or relaxed waiting, my heart is pumping and adrenaline courses through my veins. The difference between me and that horse is that he knows what he is bracing for, I do not.
All I know is that something big is coming, my life is changing before my eyes and the horizon is blocked out by a dust storm, kicked up by the pounding hooves of all that is approaching me.
I am not idle, I am filling my nights with EWI events and drinks with friends and spending my weekend days doing research and writing. Working, working, working away at my new post and old haunt through the week. But my appetite is gone, my kitchen is growing cold from lack of use, I wake early and feel a constant state of restlessness.
What is it that my body knows that I am of yet still unaware? As usual, only tomorrow holds the answer. For now I will keep my eyes on the horizon and my heart in the present and thank God for both.
All I know is that something big is coming, my life is changing before my eyes and the horizon is blocked out by a dust storm, kicked up by the pounding hooves of all that is approaching me.
I am not idle, I am filling my nights with EWI events and drinks with friends and spending my weekend days doing research and writing. Working, working, working away at my new post and old haunt through the week. But my appetite is gone, my kitchen is growing cold from lack of use, I wake early and feel a constant state of restlessness.
What is it that my body knows that I am of yet still unaware? As usual, only tomorrow holds the answer. For now I will keep my eyes on the horizon and my heart in the present and thank God for both.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Stripping in the Dark
Reading over my past posts I realized how intimate this is. There are things that I have held back, but only those things I can't stand to say out loud to myself yet. Those are the things that I can barely stand to think. I have a feeling that they will eventually end-up here too though.
I know that these posts are out there for all the world to see, but they don't look. It is as though I am standing in Times Square naked, but no one has noticed yet. There is a pleasing irony to it. Anything you could possibly want to know about me is right here, all you have to do is read it. It feels almost like I am playing a practical joke on those who wonder about me, those who would love to take a peek into my mind. Truths hidden in plain sight. I have found that is the best place to hide those things you are truly afraid to reveal.
One day people may see me, like an "artistic portfolio" of a young aspiring actress that suddenly emerges years later. Unlike her, I will not run from my compromising poses, I think I will revel in the beautiful curves of my truest self.
I know that these posts are out there for all the world to see, but they don't look. It is as though I am standing in Times Square naked, but no one has noticed yet. There is a pleasing irony to it. Anything you could possibly want to know about me is right here, all you have to do is read it. It feels almost like I am playing a practical joke on those who wonder about me, those who would love to take a peek into my mind. Truths hidden in plain sight. I have found that is the best place to hide those things you are truly afraid to reveal.
One day people may see me, like an "artistic portfolio" of a young aspiring actress that suddenly emerges years later. Unlike her, I will not run from my compromising poses, I think I will revel in the beautiful curves of my truest self.
That Woman
I always judged her, I thought, "What an ice queen! How does she keep a man?"
See, I have always worn my sexuality like a badge of honor, letting it define me to an extent. It has not been that way for a long time now.
I wonder when it started. Sadly, it has been so long it has become hard for me to remember the times when I longed to be touched, felt the fire burning. Perhaps a year and a half, two?
I don't know if it is kind or cruel how I carry on, keeping him just satisfied enough so that I don't have to talk about it. It is not that I am a coward, never that, it is worse; I a completely uninterested in that conversation. I feel that it would be a waste of my time and emotion to "talk about it".
There are times when I throb and feel that ferocious hunger again, little reminders that the sexual lion still roars inside of me.
I have only dared admit this to my my best friend, my soul twin, and what do you know? She feels the same way. How comforting to have someone else who is confused by the new image in the mirror!
I heard a sex therapist on the radio a while back who said that faking an orgasm was like denying your truest self. She said that our sexuality is the core of our being, that it was a betrayal of ourselves to be untrue to it.
Well, I suppose I agree to a point except that I have spoken to that side of myself, and she knows the deal. It is emotional triage. My mind is full, I have a hurricane of thoughts and feelings, possibilities, sorrows, joys, I am poised for the myriad of changes and challenges I am entering. I really just don't have room for that conversation. I can't afford the shit storm of the long goodbye. That could be what this is, I don't know, but I also don't want to know right now. This is the conversation I am really avoiding, this is the conversation I can't even have with her.
This year is starting out pregnant with possibilities. It is going to be a big year and I find myself bracing for the explosion. I am going to be true to myself, not in the watered down sense Dr. Sex indicated. I am going to continuing living the best way I have figured out to live so far: with passion, with patience for myself and with faith in life itself to make all things crystal clear in its own good time.
No, I never thought I would be "that woman", but perhaps I'm not. Perhaps knowing that she is a stranger borrowing my body, knowing that she is just a guide, leading me to explore a new part of myself, maybe that makes me decidedly different from her.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)