singlehood chronicles #5

this realization is still holding strong and true...

i'm finding that i'm surrounded by love, but in a strange-bedfellow sort of way.

i am not in love. but i do have several of my needs met.

i feel adored, cherished, and loved. still, i can admit that i only have about 1/2 (good day), 1/3 (not so good day), or none (bad day) of what i really want.

as the days get shorter and colder, i know that summer exuberance will give way to my cold-weather cocoon. meeting people will be much lower on my totem pole when staying warm, soup, and new year's conjuring become priorities.

do i want to cast one more love spell before the leaves turn?
should i pack it up until spring?

eh.

i've got a lot on my mind, but i should probably lie down awhile...

earth song

yeah, i know. it's mike. and everybody's got an opinion about mike.

but still.

this is still one of the most powerful songs i've ever heard.

the video is equally stunning...the image of people trying to massage life back into the earth can still bring tears to my eyes.

lights, camera, action (breakdown pt. 2)

i've been thinking along these lines again...

all last week, before the cold grabbed me, i'd been feeling like i really needed to cry, let loose. but it's extremely difficult for me to release without a catalyst. crying often requires a logical progression of carefully controlled environmental factors.

i tricked myself into all this a long time ago. as a good little girl who didn't want to get anyone into trouble, i got exceptionally good at hiding my pain.

i had rules:

• if you must cry, only cry when you know you're utterly alone.
• if you're caught, say it's about something else.
• talk to the dolls, your angels, and god.
• breathe deeply. inhale the tears.
• in a pinch, push it all down into your stomach (note: remember not to eat for a few hours after this trick)

all that sort of thing.

not only did i get good at hiding my feelings from other people, i became proficient at hiding them from myself. i learned that it could be hard to hide the tears when i couldn't stop the ugly thoughts rushing through my mind. sometimes i had to get up early. or stay up late. i didn't have time.

mostly, i just put my fingers in my ears and refused to listen. and more of that stomach-pushing.

occasionally i took it out on a boyfriend or lover, or cloaked it in a dream like haze to take the edge off. the most benign option: find a way to fictionalize it and write it out.

these were my survival tactics and, as such, have been difficult to relinquish.

the very idea of letting go, showing weakness--even when i'm alone--can terrify me.

some part of me is stuck in time, holding back that huge dam of black water that threatens to overtake and kill me if i let it out.

but i know better.
the water's been drained, purified, redirected, released.
the pain is not what it was.
i am not who i was.

lately, these kinds of revelations are coming in waves. i know it's part of a push to revert me back to my true(st) self, but even that's laced with fear. it's a self i don't quite remember.

i cannot begin to explain how difficult it is to consciously remember what i was "before". i used to think my cloudy memories were simply a manifestation of how i process information. now i wonder if it's really a symptom of the neutralization of so many powerful, life-altering feelings.

hm.

apparently, when i was younger, i used to say i wanted to grow up to be an actress.

it'd be interesting to see what i could do on a stage with all this real-life training...

love the lord, but keep your common sense

i've been having some really interesting conversations lately...

one thing that came up today was the notion of calling folks on the jeezus train** "stupid".

while i saw his point, i hesitate to call anyone "stupid" for their faith. i could easily be called a lot of things for killing a chicken.

but...i'd definitely call it "misinformed".

it's my firm opinion that any time your god has you suffering on the planet s/he supposedly put you on, something's wrong. something's also wrong when just about any and everything that feels good/right is arbitrarily forbidden. for everyone. (e.g., premarital sex is WRONG, even if you're not a sex addict, even if you're in love and monogamous, even if it's a mutual source of comfort and connection, etc.)

bottom line: i could care less if you pray by standing on your head and shouting "shabadoo!" 10 times a day...but you better have food on your table and your kids better have a future.

if you're more worried about what's going to happen after you die than how you're living right now, that's just plain anti-common sense.

but it's a damned good way to keep "the people" down and out.



**there was reference to another convo about the difference between baby jesus and grown ass man jesus.

baby jesus is a good way to make folks take all the crap you throw at them...meek and mild and rosy cheeked and all that. christmas stories in hushed tones. but folks who can look grown jesus in the face understand that he was a man who was a political prisoner, revolutionary, sorcerer (let's be real), and--word to sarah palin--a community organizer.

followers of baby jesus tend to be, well, a lot more binary in their thinking. everything's black and white. all the social justice/liberally minded christians i've known have had a lot more to say about GAM jesus.

ah, stress...

what i thought was just a simple, stress induced sore throat turned into a sinus attack/cold that's had me in bed (well, on the couch...easier to sleep sitting up there) practically all weekend.

if you're on the east coast, double up on that vitamin c. i know folks who are sick in DE, PA, DC...something's coming in w/ the change of seasons.

ugh.

i'll be back when the fog clears.

note from a formerly fractured woman

(inspired by this entry over at incredible juju)

i understand why i make you uncomfortable.

the women you are used to seeing are not fully themselves.

they have forgotten how to read the face of the moon, let alone howl at it.

their magic is locked up tight in their ignored wombs,
in soccer practice,
in music lessons,
and heat-and-serve meals.

the women you are used to only feel vague stirrings of their wild witchiness.

(the goddess can be hard to hear over cnn and oprah's guru of the moment)

the power of their dreams has been eclipsed by reason.

but i am one of the old ones returned.
born knowing better,
seeing more,
holding the keys.

i, too, had to live in this world
and suffered some amnesia.

but you cannot fool me any longer,
nor harm me.

i will love you from afar if necessary,
but i will not suffer a fool.

you are more than the world has offered you.
warrior, protector, provider...yes.
but also
the action of our inspiration.
support system.
strategist.

go and do your work.

then join me.

(c) l.a.m. 2008

mommy moments

i'm sure we've all witnessed mommy moments.

i came up with the term after seeing my best friend interact with her first child. there were little phrases they exchanged, strings of ridiculous baby talk in the middle of supposedly adult conversations, tearful first days at school (i STILL don't quite get that one...), etc.

mommy moments can happen anywhere and at any time. sometimes they're cute, other times they mean your doom (e.g., the look).

they can even happen once you're grown and no longer living at home...

i was in the middle of the most gangsta shakespeare play i'd ever seen when my mom called. a little girl in a commercial had just reminded her of me as a child. she gushed over how sweet i was, that i was a calming influence on the whole house.

but the sweetest thing was her saying, "i don't know what i did to deserve you."

i basically sat there with my mouth open. i thanked her, but honestly? i was just getting to the good part of the movie, and i can take my mother's sentimental spells for granted. so my reaction was largely, "um...ok...thanks?" and some nervous laughter.

but, i'm gonna have to thank her today, 'cause that was a really nice thing to hear. there are a lot of folks who either wish they could relive those mommy moments, or long to witness one from their own mother.

those moments are how i learned what i was like as a child, and how much of that little girl has remained with me. it's also nice that she's accepted the adult version of me because i was "always special".

she paid enough attention to notice all of that and nurture it, so i'm very grateful.

truthfully, i don't know what i did to deserve her, either.

so, thanks for the moment, mom. love you.

game.over.

don't fall for the okeydoke, y'all.

According to this definition, Sarah Palin does, indeed, have ‘executive experience.’ And so does every other governor and mayor in this country. But, I ask you, are all mayors and governors now qualified to be vice president of these United States?*

The obvious answer to this question is ‘no, all mayors and governors are not qualified to be vice president of these United States.’

And this is the point where McCain surrogates and supporters retort: “but, she has MORE executive experience than Obama does!”

And that makes about as much sense as comparing Palin’s qualifications to McCain’s. By the measure of ‘executive experience,’ McCain is less qualified to lead the U.S. than Palin. She’s also much more dynamic, and less likely to die in office. Perhaps she should be at the top of the ticket?

Some people believe that the years Obama spent as a constitutional law professor at a top university, as an Illinois state senator, and as a U.S. senator aren’t equal to Palin’s years on a small city council, mayor of a city with a population of 6,000, and (20 months) as governor of the 47th largest state in the union. Some people think that Obama’s experience outweighs Palin’s.

overflow...

i walked in hoping i'd be able to get down some thoughts and feelings, but i can't seem to form the words yet. everything is just too amorphous and full of pure emotion and feeling...

but i am happy
and grateful.

the universe is conspiring to revert me
to my fuller-than-full,
brazen hussy,
flirtatious,
bliss-creating,
pleasure-loving self.

...and i am ecstatic.