Tuesday, May 14, 2013

This is My Body...



Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
       love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

I suppose many a woman in the process of discovering herself have read the poem above and saw the experience of her-self reflected in those words.

...let the soft animal of your body
      love what it loves.

Recently I've given much thought to my relationship to my own body and to owning my body.  It seems that it's been rare that I've found it has belonged to me.  Many of us experience this relational disconnect to ourselves.  Here's an incomplete list of the reasons I have not owned my own body:

Catholic guilt
Race based shame
Abuse
Serious medical illness
Rape
Depression
Sexist US culture
Dysfunctional relationships
Loneliness
Imperialism
Self loathing
Internalized bi-phobia
Family dynamics
Absence of nature

I've been working on a campaign in the last several months that has triggered in me a greater and deeper need to make decisions for my own body.  My fear is great regarding a choice being taken away and having to literally swallow someone else's version of truth.  I'm scared.  All of my years of 12 step recovery has left me suddenly and I cannot let go.  My body is angry and reacting to the stress.  I've been unable to speak much in the last week.  Every day we get closer to knowing the outcome I become more distant from the innate understanding that I deserve to feel good.  All of the above factors in my disconnect to myself seem to be playing tricks on me.  I tell them I deserve to feel good and I deserve to partake of healthier things.  Yet something about this other voice, made manifest in a campaign based on false pretense, tells me I don't have the right to feel anything for myself.  And with that, the familiar wave of shame washed over my finely carved psyche.

What is it to love oneself?  How do we own our own bodies?  My slave ancestors were given no choice about when to work, what to wear, what to think, how to feel, what to love, what to reject.  Even as a kid I felt their complete obliteration of humanity as if through some time/space continuum it was still happening.  In all honesty I don't believe I would have been able to handle slavery.  I think I would have killed my masters or myself.

The only option in this current modern predicament is to let go of the injustice of the past, present, and future, and find a way to give myself compassion.  I want to wear it like a soft coat that serves to soothe rather than protect.  In order to stay strong I must remain vulnerable.  But instead of the soft coat, these last few days I wore the familiar metal contraption that gives me a false sense of safety.  It always seems to rust or fall apart.

I deserve to feel good.  I deserve to drink clean water and breathe clean air and eat truly healthy food and wear what serves my spirit and dance and sing even if I look foolish.  So do all the people I love and the people I don't love.  We don't get easy lives.  But we deserve to find our fulfillment without being subjected to other's notions.  I guess life doesn't work that way, but still, we deserve to feel good.

"Everything is going to be okay."  This has been my daily mantra.  And it will.  In the mean time though I will try on that soft coat of comfort.  Hopefully I'll soon find that it's just the right size.



Sunday, April 14, 2013

Raised Garden Bed Ease (or Who the Hell Needs Home Depot Anyway)

We made our first raised garden bed because we don't have much money and it was totally easy.  Here's what you do.

1. Borrow a friends power drill (like we did) or you know, own one.
2. Get some cheap wood from your local lumber store and have it cut to your size needs.  We did a 2x3.


3. Buy screws that will keep the wood together (umm yes I just wrote that).
4. Line boards up on a flat surface (as you can see we were on carpet which was fine) making sure sides are flush.  Start screwing!


5.  Don't hurt yourself!


6. Put it wherever in your garden and stick an animal in there and take a photo.


7. Take the animal out, throw in dirt.  You're done.  Enjoy.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Busy not Blogging

Today I did a little virtual weeding.  Changed some things about this blog space including how it looks, deleting old links, and just you know, re-birthing it.  By my own criteria I would have deleted this blog if it was a link because I got rid of anything that hadn't had a fresh post in 4 months.

Truthfully I've been crazy busy.  And blogging is not what it used to be and I don't know what it is or even means to me now.  Being a lady blogger was not only a label I embraced but I loved the culture and feeling of community that blogging gave me.  Then Facebook and Twitter came and things here dried up.  And by the numbers of links I deleted today, it's clear I'm not the only one who has abandoned the e-ship of blogging.

Maybe now I can really just sound off without giving a shit, since really, no one reads these things much anymore.  No persona (and every writer/blogger has one) to be crafted, no worries about offending, no concerns about how I little I post.

I could just scrap this whole thing.  Get over myself a bit & just regulate things to the show-and-tell platform that is Facebook.  But I get myself in trouble there...a lot.  Friends have likened me to a bully, wing-nut, judgmental criticizer, bitch, troublemaker, and in general someone a little too passionate and too honest.  And though I've been "unfriended" a number of times I still open my pie hole and quite frankly I'm sick of myself there in that space as much as everyone else is.  But I love seeing photos of my nephews & nieces and friends kids and food pictures and news about Monsanto and how Obama is kind of the devil and seeing how farmers grow shit and reading jokes and memes and dear gawd that K-Mart commercial I would have never known about if it wasn't for FB!

So really I don't know what I'm doing here there or anywhere when it comes to having a place online to write things.  I know I'm a little co-dependent so in the back of my mind there's a hope that something I wrote actually makes things better for someone somewhere even if it's (quite) indirectly.  But injustice still fuels my anger and fear of helplessness.  This is in large part why I have been so busy.  I've been doing things...and for a while at that.  Things I've always done but more so and with more media recognition (which is weird).  I'm out there being told I'm an asshole from "important" people and it's great.  But then I watch my fingers as they shrink into themselves and have to stop being busy because my immunity gets the best of me and for a little while my body falls apart and I hurt and hurt and hurt.

Being with people, doing stuff, while in school, and shrinking is a tall order.  And other than my wife and sometimes my mom, no one has a clue what my life looks like and I get lonely.  But this ain't no pity party.

It feels good to risk the love of those I love to do what I've got to do.  Mistake are made, loved ones part, then I get to mourn and move forward catching stars and throwing them back into the air.  The powers that be made me more resilient than I ever understood until this year.  So I'll just keep on keeping on and pray for the wisdom to be the woman I'm meant to be, even when it breaks my heart over and over, because it's worth it.
F


Monday, January 21, 2013

On MLK Jr. Day, the Heart is Heavy but the Love is Strong

Even when pressed by the demands of inner truth, men do not easily assume the task of opposing their government's policy, especially in time of war. Nor does the human spirit move without great difficulty against all the apathy of conformist thought within one's own bosom and in the surrounding world. Moreover, when the issues at hand seem as perplexing, as they often do in the case of this dreadful conflict, we're always on the verge of being mesmerized by uncertainty. But we must move on. Some of us who have already begun to break the silence of the night have found that the calling to speak is often a vocation of agony. But we must speak. We must speak with all the humility that is appropriate to our limited vision, but we must speak.
-Martin Luther King Jr.

Tomorrow the president will be inaugurated again.  Last time, the first time he was sworn in, I felt so proud, so filled with hope.  I remember being on the phone with a dear friend who had literally seen the effects of racism I experienced, and we cried tears of joy.  This time I didn't even vote for him.  And I have spoke out against his administrations evil.  For this I have lost friends and even a mentor has turned away from me, and the very friend I cried with four years ago, I'm worried doesn't want to speak to me.  Speaking out, as a person of conscious, has been a necessity, but it has come with costs.  The price though is worth it.

By now I shouldn't be surprised that some feel Obama's presidency somehow proves that as a nation, race relations and racism is less of an issue because a "Black" president (he's mixed race and not acknowledging that is proof we have longer to go than fully considered) was elected.  In fact I contend that a big part of why my more liberal sisters and brothers have not spoken out about our being engaged militarily with over seven countries is because, in essence, we are still congratulating ourselves on voting in the brown guy.

But this is the most lazy form of supposed anti-racism work I've seen.  Are we not holding our president and his administration accountable for the thousands of people killed overseas because we want to believe we voted for the good guy or because we voted for the Black guy?  I suspect it's a lot of both.  And here's the rub, if we voted for the Black guy who turns out is even worse than the bad guy before him, then that means we have to really and truly look at not only our presidents policies, our role in allowing them to fester, and our lackluster approach to dealing with racism.  It means by golly we're still racist...and that we don't want to face the real work it takes to examine it and make a true and concerted effort to change it.

Let me also state that when those who do speak out against Obama's policies, compare him to Dr. King Jr. (I have a drone/I have a dream) they are being equally lazy and racist.  Obama is a politician, bought and paid for by corporations.  King Jr. was a preacher, activist, and fallible visionary.  The only thing these two have in common is that they both are of color, and both are powerful orators.  To act as if they are somehow in the same category is oversimplification at it's worst.

Tomorrow the president will be sworn in on King's bible.  I may cry tomorrow but only because of the absolute travesty such an action will be.  There is no nicer way for me to say this but as an activist, and as someone descended from slaves, I am disgusted.  Here is what Cornel West has to say about it:



Interestingly Mr. West believes that Obama's NDAA would have potentially locked up King indefinitely without due process.  But knowing King's legacy as I do, I think he would have spoke out anyway about the several unjust conflicts we are engaged in.  And in all honesty, though I'm speculating, I think King would find that his bible being used in such a way tomorrow, was a bit inappropriate.

Love is not easy.  I struggle myself with the urge to finger point.  But luckily I still have friends left who hold me accountable, and tell me when my striving for peace, looks potentially like harm.  The humility I have experienced recently by being called out I am grateful for.  It has reminded me of King's words above, that my vision has limits, but even if I am clumsy, I must ask my higher power for the words, and continue to speak, think, and take loving action.  All I can say is - I'm working on it.  But regardless I don't speak out to win friends but to save lives.  As a feisty older lady once told me "if you're not thought of as a bitch, then you're not doing enough."

If you have 20 minutes to spare, please listen to Dr. Kings antiwar speech.  And if you have 20 more minutes, look into Obama's drone policies and the NDAA.  Then ask yourself if King would be happy with the actions our president has taken.  Ask if we are any closer to the equality we so desire than we we're four years ago.  Ask how we can stop the violence against our sisters and brothers of color here and around the world.  We don't have to know the answers...but if we never ask the questions, we may not find out who we truly are, and the healing we are capable of.

Love is a great beautifier. -Louisa May Alcott

More of Dr. Martin Luther King's words.

A genuine revolution of values means in the final analysis that our loyalties must become ecumenical rather than sectional. Every nation must now develop an overriding loyalty to mankind as a whole in order to preserve the best in their individual societies. This call for a worldwide fellowship that lifts neighborly concern beyond one's tribe, race, class, and nation is in reality a call for an all-embracing, unconditional love for all men. This oft misunderstood and misinterpreted concept, so readily dismissed by the Nietzsches of the world as a weak and cowardly force, has now become an absolute necessity for the survival of mankind. And when I speak of love I'm not speaking of some sentimental and weak response. I am speaking of that force which all of the great religions have seen as the supreme unifying principle of life. Love is somehow the key that unlocks the door which leads to ultimate reality. This Hindu-Muslim-Christian-Jewish-Buddhist belief about ultimate reality is beautifully summed up in the first epistle of John: "Let us love one another, for God is love. And every one that loveth is born of God and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God, for God is love. If we love one another, God dwelleth in us and his love is perfected in us."

Let me say finally that I oppose the war in Vietnam because I love America. I speak out against this war, not in anger, but with anxiety and sorrow in my heart, and, above all, with a passionate desire to see our beloved country stand as the moral example of the world. I speak out against this war because I am disappointed with America. And there can be no great disappointment where there is not great love. I am disappointed with our failure to deal positively and forthrightly with the triple evils of racism, economic exploitation, and militarism. We are presently moving down a dead-end road that can lead to national disaster. America has strayed to the far country of racism and militarism. The home that all too many Americans left was solidly structured idealistically; its pillars were solidly grounded in the insights of our Judeo-Christian heritage. All men are made in the image of God. All men are bothers. All men are created equal. Every man is an heir to a legacy of dignity and worth. Every man has rights that are neither conferred by, nor derived from the State--they are God-given. Out of one blood, God made all men to dwell upon the face of the earth. What a marvelous foundation for any home! What a glorious and healthy place to inhabit. But America's strayed away, and this unnatural excursion has brought only confusion and bewilderment. It has left hearts aching with guilt and minds distorted with irrationality.



Thursday, January 10, 2013

A Former Liberal Gal's Lament

Sometimes it feels like I woke up and found myself in an entirely different world.  One where the people I know seem like strangers and the government I thought I vaguely trusted, I now know is a terrorist enterprise.  I have not blogged on here much because being sick and busy has made blogging feel overwhelming.  But I've been speaking out in other ways.  Ways that may have rendered me of interest to the alphabet boys and that have lost me friends who I thought were on the same page as me.

At the same time, my world has opened up in a way I never expected.  Within weeks and then months I've found myself making new allies, going up against bureaucratic thugs, and speaking out with a clarity & bravery that I didn't know I had in me.  For every friend I've lost, it seems I gain another.  For every disappointment, a sense of fearlessness.  For every heartbreak, a feeling of love.

A powerful piece of literature I read says "It is a spiritual axiom that every time we are disturbed, no matter what the cause, there is something wrong with us."  And indeed every time I feel upset with the way our country continues to engage further and further into wars, it is me that is having the issue.  That being said, I feel it is natural to feel hurt, anger, and utter astonishment at where things on our planet seem to be heading.  So when I go beyond the hurt, I realize that my sitting around being upset doesn't do much.  And that among some, whatever words I say, no matter how true and seemingly obvious to me, others may just not "get it."  In a 12 step program I know of they often say you can't "cause it, control it or cure it."  They should also add that you can't compete with it.  Whether it's a family members addiction, or our nations addiction to war and oil, driving ourselves nuts from grief, fear, and rage, won't make the lives of our sisters and brothers among us and abroad any better.

I used to consider myself a liberal.  Looking back I realize now that a great deal of what being a liberal was about for me, had to do with what I was against.  I marched at age 15 for the US to get out of El Salvador.  Many letters were written to leaders regarding the stopping of things.  I was of course against republicans and Bush & his war machine.  And when I was for something, man, what a feeling!  Like many other good hearted liberals I donated money to causes, worked/volunteered in the community and even helped out at the campaign office when Senator Wellstone ran for a 2nd term.  Even as a teen standing outside of a clinic so women could have access to abortions was a kind of rush.  And talk about high of all highs...finally getting eight years of terrible leadership out of the White House and helping to vote in a man who not only spoke of change, hope and moving forward, but was the first president of color too boot.  A man who actually looked like me a little and someone who I could point to should I ever have kids and say "hey you can be anything you want" and really mean it because of who America had elected.

I remember crying on the phone with a friend the day he was inaugurated feeling so proud.  I had been a part of a new America and a better one at that by helping to cast my vote in the "right" direction.  It was like finally being on the winning team and what was even better was this team stood for all the values I held dear. Values like ending wars, closing Guantanamo, helping all Americans and not just those lucky enough to be a part of the tenuous "greater good" to have healthcare, civil rights, and liberty.

But I was totally fucking wrong.


"Voting is easy and marginally useful, but it is a poor substitute for democracy,
which requires direct action by concerned citizens" - Howard Zinn


The site stpeteforpeace.org has a quick and dirty little list of some of what our current "change" president has  done or enacted:

Signed the NDAA into law - making it legal to assassinate Americans w/o charge or trial.
Initiated, and personally oversees a 'Secret Kill List'.
Waged war on Libya without congressional approval.
Started a covert, drone war in Yemen.
Escalated the proxy war in Somalia.
Escalated the CIA drone war in Pakistan.
Maintained a presence in Iraq even after "ending" the war.
Sharply escalated the war in Afghanistan.
Secretly deployed US special forces to 75 countries.
Sold $30 billion of weapons to the dictatorship in Saudi Arabia.
Signed an agreement for 7 military bases in Colombia.
Opened a military base in Chile.
Touted nuclear power, even after the disaster in Japan.
Opened up deepwater oil drilling, even after the BP disaster.
Did a TV commercial promoting "clean coal".
Defended body scans and pat-downs at airports.
Signed the Patriot Act extension into law.
Deported a modern-record 1.5 million immigrants.
Continued Bush's rendition program.

All of these facts are easy to find when Googled.  There are so many links to share but I believe if you are still reading these words you are capable of looking into each of the issues listed about and finding out for yourself.

About 2 years ago I began to really take to heart some questions I had been having regarding our ever increasing attacks on other countries.  We were not just on the ground, but increasingly, we were engaging in drone strikes that I learned were killing innocent children.  The "terror watch" list kept expanding at wack-a-mole proportions.  I saw that tax cuts for the wealthy were being extended.  And that citizens here in the US and abroad were starting to have their privacy disintegrate.  Soon after the 2008 election I immediately wondered what I had done when I saw who was being picked for the current administration's staff.  But I hung on to that hope not wanting to face that my so-called liberal conscious was spinning.  Like many I was spoon fed the message of change during the campaign and ate it up like a kool-aid jello mold.

But like so many right now, my justification for not getting my panties in a bunch was that "he's not the other guy."  "He's not Bush so it means the drone strikes must serve some better purpose?" I quietly began to ask.  "The tax cuts for the wealthy would have been even worse under McCain right?" I reasoned to my wife.  "But Romney is awful on social policies" I never said but know many of my friends did.  Anyway it all finally came to a head one night after reading about drone strikes in...Somalia!  I laid in my bed and had one of those -dark night of the soul- cries.  My conscious could no longer find justifications, rationalizations, excuses or any other not-so-Jedi mind tricks to employ.  I had voted for a killer, a war thug, an impostor, and someone who was not only doing the evil deeds of his predecessor, but was expanding on them.  And my silence meant that I was helping contribute to the madness.

Around the time of the most recent election I finally began to grow a pair (of ovaries) and post articles on Facebook about who he was and what is going on in this administration (because after all the president is just a part of a greater worm hole of shittiness).  There was mild disagreement when there was any.  There were friends who definitely saw what I saw.  But what was strange was that mostly, there was silence.  People who regularly commented or "liked" political things I posted often, suddenly displayed no reaction to those new posts.  And then an American tragedy came up and I took a bold step.  The shooting in Sandy Hook devastated many, especially those who chose to watch the media coverage and have young kids.  And when I watched our leader speak of the violence and -cry...I was horrified.  The whole thing seemed wildly surreal & I had to watch the video of the press conference a few times to make sure I wasn't just seeing things.  It appeared that his tears were not sincere.  Even if they had been real, whatever that means for a man like him, he was denouncing violence while being a key architect in of the worst violence our country has ever inflicted on the rest of the world.  And the crazy thing was people seemed utterly hypnotized by the charade.  So I posted a picture saying basically that he's a fake crier and a liar and doesn't give a shit about any kids...

One friend told me I was insensitive and that he is not what I think he is.  Though I didn't answer back, I wanted to ask if they had even read a single article on the drones strikes, NDAA, or the coal policies.  Or that for the social progressive he is, I still can't get married in my own damn state, while another pastor who delivered an anti-gay sermon was invited to speak at his inauguration (again!).  Another friend outright unfriended me saying:

I honestly thought he was kidding but the next day when I saw that he tried to refriend me, I realized he was serious.  And the comment was actually kind of, well refreshing.  It made me realize I no longer belong to the liberal gang.  I didn't vote for the democrat for president this time, I speak out against the injustice any democrat is involved in, and heck, I don't even think all guns should be banned (but believe me there is no damn need to own any weapon capable of killing a crowd of people whether it be gun or drone, private citizen or government).  

I used to think being liberal or progressive meant one was against war, for equal rights, defending privacy and liberty.  Yet the very same people who abhorred all that Bush stood for, stand by and even support the very same things this administration is doing.  If that is what liberal means...that as long as our guy is the war criminal then it's a-okay, then count me the fuck out.  Perhaps right now we can escape the truth of what's happening "out there" but with the way this administration is going, one day my dear liberal friends may see these same tactics used on them too.

Much love to all who read this...even if you think I'm a wingnut. ;)
~F


     

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Best Disturbing, Weird, or Creepy Music Videos Thus Far

It's all my wife's fault.  She got me into horror films early into our relationship.  I had actually watched some horror films before she came along, but not at the increasingly alarming rate that happened in our courtship.  One of her biggest compliments of a film was "it's good and creepy" and I'd ask "why is creepy good?"  Her reply was "because it is."

So I present music videos that I have come to understand as good, though others may consider them as disturbing or weird or just plain ol' creepy.  Why do I enjoy them?  I'm still not sure entirely, but it has something to do with stepping into disorder while manifesting an artistic vision.  It takes time, effort, and vision to create a moment on film that provokes a kind of psychic dissonance.  And for some reason I find this beautiful.

My criteria for favorite disturbing videos include:
-An unusual visual presentation that conjures a potential or actual visceral response.
-Imagery that contains elements or references to violence - whether physical, psychological, or psychic.
-Elements of creative or artistic excellence.
-I like the song.

My first pick (to ease you into the bizarreness) is a video sung by Norwegian singer/piano player Susanne Sundfør.  The song White Foxes is the first single off her latest album The Silicone Veil.  In this video a strange X-ray leads to an equally strange surgery.  


If you hate Kanye West, this is the video for you!  Personally I'm a fan but I worry for his mortal soul now that he's dating Kim Kardashian.  Here West is confined and restricted by an astoundingly gorgeous woman who has something wicked in store for the rapper.  This is Flashing Lights.


Speaking of Rappers here is a video by one of the most serious of hip-hop hustlers HOVA a.k.a Jay-Z.  On to the Next One was rumored when it came out, to allude to the purported cult of the Illuminati.  Some of the imagery included: a creepy white guy with his face painted like an emo clown, a gun, bullets, a dude chewing gum while wearing lipstick, basketballs on fire, milk, Jay-Z flipping you off, an animal skull, and much more.  Combine all of these elements and you have one bizarre ass video.


This is one more rumored Illuminati video.  Run This Town belongs in the weird category for sure.  Watching it I found myself wondering why Rihanna, Jay-Z, & Kanye are all so mad.  I mean I'm Black and mad too but these folks are rich as fuck so it's time to chill.  Anyway what's creepy about this is the sort of quasi-satanic Mad Max feel of it.  Spikes, masks, people holding black sticks, and I shit you not, a guy in a cave wearing a Chairman Mao bomber jacket.  Weird!



This video is brilliantly horrible.  Featuring performance artist Bob Flanagan, Nine Inch Nails found a way to take their song Happiness in Slavery to the next super uncomfortable freaky level.  This video has a distinct political message.  The second half of the video is where things go bat shit crazy!
 


Hungry for the Power by the electro-neo house band Azari & III is a video with a message just like Happiness in Slavery.  However the take here is not limited to a one man torture porn show.  Instead a business man is overcome by his need for domination and in the end is forced to submit to something more horrible than even he could imagine.


Electro-pop musician Juan de Guillebon a.k.a DyE had his song Fantasy made manifest into video by the French animator Jérémie Périn.  I showed my wife this video and her response was "that's bizarre."  The video isn't necessarily scary but it has a certain existential quality that goes beyond nihilism.  What starts out as typical teenage fare becomes something much more frightening.


When I was a kid this video was shown to our 3rd or 4th grade class as a treat for good behavior.  When the song Thriller came out I didn't like it.  It was a scary song and I when my babysitter would occasionally play it I literally covered my ears with my hands because it spooked me so.  We didn't have cable at home and though I knew of MTV, I rarely saw music videos.  Most of the other kids in my class had seen this video and thought is was the shit.  For a moment I was excited to see it based on my classmates reverie.  Then about a minute or two into the video I realized my classmates were utterly insane.  This video scared me so much that I had to sleep with my mom for two years after watching it.  No joke!  Of course now I love it, but I didn't watch it again from that day in class until I was 31 years old.


In high school I became a Pink Floyd fan thanks to some of my stoner friends who listened to the band's music when we hung out (note- I was not a stoner then).  Years before though I was a little girl up late watching television and came across the film The Wall.  Honestly to this day I couldn't tell you what the film was about but a very disturbing scene haunted me for years.  Children with distorted faces marched along...until they met the worst of fates.  It was the first time I realized other children could be harmed and I cried to myself in horror.  I had nightmares for months after watching what is now the video for Another Brick in the Wall.  I hope to hell no children ever see it too soon!  


Of course there are tons of fucked up disturbing videos out there and goodness knows I've watched many.  Some honorable mentions include: Sweetest Kill by Broken Social Scene, Yonkers by Tyler The Creator, and Owner of a Lonely Heart by Yes.  If you want to find more weird ass videos there are plenty but many of them are by metal groups and other bands trying to look "hard."  Hope you can sleep tonight!

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

A Grown Ass Kid's Lament


I'm not sure how many people have photos of their parents looking totally miserable while their expecting their first child, but I assume I'm not the only one.  Here is my mother and father.  She looks like she's being held captive (and in a way I think she certainly felt that way).  He looks forlorn and unsure (and in a way I think he certainly felt that way).  This was my beginning.  Two people who were just a few years away from the age of thirty, yet were too young to really know what they were doing in life and as parents.

Last Sunday, Father's Day I spoke with my dad on the phone.  It was a shorter conversation for he & I thus far clocking in at just under 50 minutes.  He had received the care package I sent and promptly thanked me for it.  I had sent him a small CD player.  See my dad played the guitar when he was younger and would sing me to sleep with it.  My dad could also play piano, bass guitar, and a few other instruments, all by ear and without formal training.  He was the first to teach me about music and from those teachings I developed a lifelong passion for it.  Though I don't personally play an instrument, music is at the center of my soul and without drama, I can say it has saved my life.  Since my dad is sick and doesn't play any of his 3 guitars that sit in his closet, I thought I'd send him the gift of music, as he didn't have a record player or tape player or computer or CD player.

My wife & I are basically broke so we went to Goodwill and found a nice little used player.  I cleaned it with rubbing alcohol, sort of rubbing my own love into it.  Then I burned CD's containing songs of artists he and I had talked about that he likes.  Aretha Franklin, Issac Hayes, Al Green, and more.  I spent the spare time I had not studying or feeling like shit physically to compile the music among three CD's.  I also sent a nice 5X7 photo of my wife and I and a nice Dad's day card that she picked out.

Later in my conversation with dad he asked me why I didn't drive, how my chronic illnesses affected me that week and how my wife was.  Then he said "you know I don't have much room in my apartment for a CD player."

I was quiet for a while.  There was not much to say because I knew that his sentence was not meant to hurt me, but that it did all the same.  Calmly I said if he didn't want it he could give it away or get rid of it.  I tried to not feel the ache in my heart that was building ever so slowly and think of other things to talk about.  Then I just ran out of things to say or ask and wished him a good night.

The week prior I had lost my shit and started crying on the phone with him.  My tenderness floated to the surface unexpectedly.

Often I think of the Martin Luther King Jr. book Strength to Love.  The title of the book is what gets me and the idea that to love, to really let go and open the heart, requires strength.  Somehow throughout the course of my life, faced with rejection, abuse, abandonment, not having any siblings, living on a block with no other kids until the age of 14, and being overly enmeshed with my mom; plus getting asthma and knee arthritis, and still somehow I managed to develop into a person capable of loving.  Add to all that childhood stuff being of color, queer, working class, and female.  Yet here I am, alive and chest deep in love and able to keep some semblance of faith in humanity.

Many times I wanted to be dead or at least not on this planet anymore.  I felt inherently broken and the proof was in the way my parents treated me.  The proof was in the way society treated me and other marginalized people.  There was proof every time I was rejected by someone or something for some reason.  But somehow I was always guided to a place of hope, even with tears streaming down my face.  Thanks to therapy, recovery, and some really wonderful friends, I have a life that is worth living and I am a person worth knowing, even if those who I wanted to know and really see me, couldn't.

All the shiny self-love in the world cannot shield one from a broken heart.  My heart is still broken and will likely be until I die.  Living is learning on a daily basis to breathe when restless, dream when drifting, and dance in the midst of pain.

I gave my daddy my heart in the form of a CD player but he doesn't have room for it.  Ashes of the dream of  a little girl finally having a dad are being sprinkled onto the sea of my psyche...

Death is a process.  The death of a dream that I've had since I was seven of what could have been.

But it is okay because I have music.  I get to keep the music.  And for the moment that works.
~F

Songs listened to while writing this post include:


Tonight I'm Fine/How are You by Tim Christensen
The Ride by Joan as Police Woman
Every Night by Ed Harcourt
Hynm for You to Sing by Nina Kinert 
The Brothel by Susanne Sundfor
Which Will by Nick Drake