Honoring my feelings and other randomness
So I told my armchair psychologist/life coach that I would take 3 times a week to “honor my feelings”. That basically boils down to bitching about the state of my life and relationships and re-evaluating what I want, need, and my game plan for getting there. It would be ideal for a person to always “honor” their feelings but between worrying about paying rent, juggling men and searching for love, and trying to figure out how to make being an artist pay while dealing with my bullshit job honoring my feelings gets lost in there, sometimes.
I think a lot—about my life, love, men, the future, the past, the world and all its ills and beauties and how I can help change it. I’m sort of humanitarian and at the same time self indulgent and bitchy. I’m too selfish to have children or wait for a man to decide to love me—-but I don’t really think that is selfish considering having a baby would be a real monkey wrench in my present plans and waiting on a man grows tiresome and boring. So I have this way of skipping between subjects and thoughts and that’s okay because this blog is going to be the space where I can write whatever the hell I am feeling and thinking. Unlike my other blogs that I find myself tailoring and editing for content all the time based on who is reading it or NOT.
I used to keep a journal from the time I was eight up until my teens but once my mom found my journals, read them and burned them and my love affair with journaling came to a cold stand still. It was hard to trust thoughts to paper after that and so I began to mire the thoughts in my head. Often they build in messy jumbles that sometimes exhaust me. I am a thinking woman but even I don’t want to think about all the shit I have been thinking about, you know? When I finally do commit thoughts to paper it’s usually in the form of poems. I write lots of poetry—mostly political and social commentaries but also love and erotica. I’ve got more love poems than I will ever admit to, but I can only write love poems when I am in love or going through heartbreak. I am a real poet—not an instant poem without inspiration.
So the last few days I have spent musing and weeping over Deepa Mehta movies. It all started with re-watching the Kama Sutra: A Love Story which is a favorite of mine and then I remembered reading about an interesting movie called Fire by Deepa. Well I found it online and was riveted to the screen—it was really a beautiful and tastefully done movie The movie was so good I googled Water and watched it too. By the time I finished watching it while at work labeling envelopes for another useless mass mailing I was in tears. Such a beautiful movie. Both movies really could get me going about feminist issues but honestly I did not dwell on that. There was a comment made my Narayan’s mother in Water that made me pause. When Narayan is telling his mother he has found a bride she asks: Is she fair skinned?
Is she fair skinned?
Of all the questions a mother could ask about her son’s intended she asked this question as if it was of the utmost importance. I wonder if he had responded that she was dark skinned would the mother have found this more appalling than him wanting to wed a widow (which in the time setting was against the Holy Scriptures in Hinduism – or a form of it)? I have noted that there is a color complex problem all across the world amongst people of color. This is disturbing and disheartening. Of all the beautiful brown and olive and golden skin tones in the world why is there this obsession with “Whiteness”? Does it predate the contact with Western culture or is it a product of being colonized or conquered peoples by “Whites” in different areas of the world? If so, how does a minority culture so deeply impact the standard of beauty and culture in a majority world of color?
It’s a grave and sad psychological condition. The reaches of racism, classism and sexism work as the clinching fingers of a fist that deeply effects the attitudes, mentality, socialization and acculturation of people. It bothers me to see it among African Americans and Latinos in particular. We live in a society obsessed with capitalism, materialism, false images of beauty and assimilation. Any room for differences and diversity are stomped out and extinguished. So many people strive to fit into a box never designed for them which hurts them mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically. It’s madness and we teach and pass on these same screwed up values to the next generation if we are not careful and conscious of them.
That has been the latest of my brooding thoughts on what is psychologically wrong with women, society and the world. As I said my thoughts are a jumble so social and political commentary get interspersed in my dialog of randomness. For the last couple of months I have been dealing with an absent lover. Someone I have been fond of for nearly 15 years but he is a fickle Aquarius who can only give me a taste of what it is like to be with him before disappearing on a “mission” to change something, help someone or fix something while neglecting me. While I have had no real desire to be with anyone but him —he is never around and so I fulfill my needs and desires with others—who are not him, and therefore there is still a void. I need time, attention, affection and great sex. I can only take myself out so many times, stay busy so much before the loneliness swallows me in place and I feel the emptiness. Yes, I can be alone but I don’t want to be. So I have filled my time with other ventures and other men.
I am 28, have never been pregnant, engaged or married—and I think my biological clock is ticking because every baby is hopelessly cute until I have to be responsible for it more than 5 minutes. I can deal with being unmarried and without child, that’s cool with me considering I want the freedom to jump up and travel and party and socialize at will. I’m not in the frame of mind or financially ready for a child anyway. I would want to be more stable and most importantly I would want the father to be there, permanently. I just can’t see myself as a Baby’s Momma. I’m disdainful of the title as it is. I deserve the whole role, the love, respectability and fidelity. I don’t ask for terms of commitment insane—but because we both love and honor one another and want to make a beautiful and meaningful together.
I am no relationship guru. All of mine have failed and have left me with quite a bit of heartbreak and crazy stories but I don’t think I am too jaded and bitter. I would try again if only a man had the guts to go the full mile with me. I don’t believe in dragging a man along—either you are with me or you are not. It’s a choice, and a relationship does not operate with an uncooperative body—but a whole and willing one. For once I would like to be a priority, even if it means something as small as calling me while I am on the road performing, or coming to one of my shows, or returning a text to inquire about my day. I’m not asking for anything unreasonable—just the same consideration and support I would give.
Well, what else….I could talk about how I am feeling fat—but obviously it has not bothered me enough in the last few years to lose more than a few pounds at a time. I’m not fat, really, just plump and the weight goes to my bit of a belly. Need to hit the gym. Nothing I can’t rectify but I refuse to starve myself or go on a crazy ass diet. It’s just not that deep. Got to love yourself and I do love myself even in my more insecure moments. It’s called being human.
I am so tired. I was up late last night engaged in another round of how far can my ankles reach to my ears with my ex-boyfriend. He is an incredible and passionate lover. No complaints except he is just crazy and we make one another crazier, but I am still quite fond of him. I could use a nap and a good meal and some wine later on. For now I think I will bring this first blog to a close and go crash in the conference room for a few before heading to open mic tonight.
That is all.
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