Guess what? I weighed myself here and discovered i've lost 35 pounds. 35 pounds! I suspected i'd lost something, but whoa! That's alot! I'm pretty tickled since i haven't been "dieting" per se. More-so, it seems to be evidence that after years of hard work, my eating disorder has (dare i say?) difinitively subsided. Amazing. Shocking. Thrilling. Hard to believe. And i am SO grateful. So deeply awed and grateful.
Wow.
So, guess where i am? Out of state visiting the folks for 11 days! D bought the ticket. Pretty nice? No? I think so. This will be by far the longest stretch i will have seen them in over 10 years. I've been anxious; ie; nervous, but so far, its been remarkably smooth. There's been lots of activity (well, for my typically catatonic-self, not for a normal person, that is.) And there will be lots more of activity to come with visitng relatives, cooking and shopping and whatnot.
My folks have an incredible home on the water. Immaculate. And beautifully decorated. Huge open spaces with wood floors and persian carpets. Endless wide windows overlooking the sea. Lovely works of art; colored glass, figurines, rich jewel tonedTu rk ish wall hangings, gold leafed mirrors and exotic lamps. Its bright and spacious. Spotless. And just all around pleasant to be in. Far far far from the home i grew up in. (Dark and cramped. Clausterphopic and opressive.) Its like a dream home.
Dec 21, 2004
Dec 16, 2004
Relationships
This is an interesting article that speaks to me.
This article makes me shiver. Its difficult to (for sake of argument) to flip-flop my perspective to that of the "cheator's", if only for the sake of understanding. There's something about it that deeply disturbs me.
What do YOU think? I'm interested to know....
This article makes me shiver. Its difficult to (for sake of argument) to flip-flop my perspective to that of the "cheator's", if only for the sake of understanding. There's something about it that deeply disturbs me.
What do YOU think? I'm interested to know....
Dec 13, 2004
What I Like
peaches, peas on the pod,
laughing, holding hands, being touched
sparkling things: gems, glitter, sequins, crystal
deep luscious rich exotic colors, burguny, turquoise, pure snow white
Fluffy doggies, kittens, horses
sexy boots, scarves, bold jewlrey, funky vintage bohemian clothes
magic, mystery, romance
internet and surfing
music, dancing, composing, singing, rythm, tap dancing, indian dance, MIDI composition, guitar
long hair, art, painting, drawing, being girly and masculine,
tall men, loving people, sensitivity, kindness, warmth
strong woman, political activism, believing and working for a cause, truth, honesty, openness and communication
snow, falling leaves
random smiles from strangers
warm lattes, eggnog
losing weight from hard emotional work and effort
"that look" - when i catch d staring at me at me and smiling
writing (here)
the theater
Alias,
etc & to be continued
laughing, holding hands, being touched
sparkling things: gems, glitter, sequins, crystal
deep luscious rich exotic colors, burguny, turquoise, pure snow white
Fluffy doggies, kittens, horses
sexy boots, scarves, bold jewlrey, funky vintage bohemian clothes
magic, mystery, romance
internet and surfing
music, dancing, composing, singing, rythm, tap dancing, indian dance, MIDI composition, guitar
long hair, art, painting, drawing, being girly and masculine,
tall men, loving people, sensitivity, kindness, warmth
strong woman, political activism, believing and working for a cause, truth, honesty, openness and communication
snow, falling leaves
random smiles from strangers
warm lattes, eggnog
losing weight from hard emotional work and effort
"that look" - when i catch d staring at me at me and smiling
writing (here)
the theater
Alias,
etc & to be continued
Dec 10, 2004
Update
Arg.
Sorry.
Didn't mean to worry anyone. The comments from Emily reminded me that perhaps i have a responsibility to those few (incredibly cool) people that do stop by here regularly, to not be careless with my words. I guess there's both benefits and harm of publishing stream-of-conscious thoughts as the print, er, pixograms may or may not fully, adequately represent the whole story.
Anyway, I'm (we're) much better now. But not without a considerable amount of distress. I ought to elaborate. But, somehow, i just don't want to. Maybe rehashing it here upsets me. I'd like to not think or remember it at all, in a way. It's still way too uncomfortable right now.
But i will close this post with a comment i left on Mesa's site a few days ago. Ironic?
I think women are often trained to keep things inside. We're molded to smooth things over and pretend things are okay. We're taught that anger is unattractive and "unladylike" and otherwise should not exist. The problem is, everyone gets angry. Conflicts are inevitable. Disagreements are a part of everyday life. So, what are we to do when we have a feeling that we are ashamed of but nonetheless is there? Its a set-up! And only compounds the painful feelings, when really, it could be so much simpler; we can have our heart to heart, share our feelings, reconnect and re-establish just how much we love and care about each other..
Try not to be so hard on eachother, and just as importnatly yourselves. Hang in there! Despite the communication difficulties, its obvious in your writings, that you both care about each other alot.
Time for that heart-to-heart!
Sorry.
Didn't mean to worry anyone. The comments from Emily reminded me that perhaps i have a responsibility to those few (incredibly cool) people that do stop by here regularly, to not be careless with my words. I guess there's both benefits and harm of publishing stream-of-conscious thoughts as the print, er, pixograms may or may not fully, adequately represent the whole story.
Anyway, I'm (we're) much better now. But not without a considerable amount of distress. I ought to elaborate. But, somehow, i just don't want to. Maybe rehashing it here upsets me. I'd like to not think or remember it at all, in a way. It's still way too uncomfortable right now.
But i will close this post with a comment i left on Mesa's site a few days ago. Ironic?
I think women are often trained to keep things inside. We're molded to smooth things over and pretend things are okay. We're taught that anger is unattractive and "unladylike" and otherwise should not exist. The problem is, everyone gets angry. Conflicts are inevitable. Disagreements are a part of everyday life. So, what are we to do when we have a feeling that we are ashamed of but nonetheless is there? Its a set-up! And only compounds the painful feelings, when really, it could be so much simpler; we can have our heart to heart, share our feelings, reconnect and re-establish just how much we love and care about each other..
Try not to be so hard on eachother, and just as importnatly yourselves. Hang in there! Despite the communication difficulties, its obvious in your writings, that you both care about each other alot.
Time for that heart-to-heart!
Dec 8, 2004
Dear T
Are you still up?
I need help. I am very angry/hurt and don't know what to do.
It would be nice to talk, if you're not busy....
sorry to be so needy, but i really value your wisdom/perspective and could really use some of that right now before i do something rash. (ie: take off, leave, get a motel, run away for good, O.D., etc)
i suspect its not even a big deal, but the rage is just overwhelming me. choking me. i can't stand it and feel helpless to do anything about it.
I need help. I am very angry/hurt and don't know what to do.
It would be nice to talk, if you're not busy....
sorry to be so needy, but i really value your wisdom/perspective and could really use some of that right now before i do something rash. (ie: take off, leave, get a motel, run away for good, O.D., etc)
i suspect its not even a big deal, but the rage is just overwhelming me. choking me. i can't stand it and feel helpless to do anything about it.
Burning
I am mad.
Raging.
Disgusted.
Pissed.
Outraged.
Furious.
Paralyzed. My stomach is in knots. I can feel the presence of impending tears. My chest is doing flip flops. I think i am going to throw up.
I want to run away.
Fuck it and be gone.
How dare he. How could he. What the hell.
Now what do i do.
There is nothing i can do.
Nothing to be said.
No where to go.
Nothing to think.
Its all useless.
It will do no good.
I won't be heard.
The tears will reap no reward.
In fact, expressing my feelings as i was so bold (though terrified) to do yesterday led to many times the cataclysm and an entire day of pain, teaching me well to keep my mouth shut.
No, there will be nothing to turn back time and make it go away now. He's done it and that's that. Permantly emblazened as a chip in my freshly repaired heart. Why should he have to answer to me, afterall. "Its the principle" I don't own him.
I am helpless.
Hurt.
And once again alone in my pain.
Raging.
Disgusted.
Pissed.
Outraged.
Furious.
Paralyzed. My stomach is in knots. I can feel the presence of impending tears. My chest is doing flip flops. I think i am going to throw up.
I want to run away.
Fuck it and be gone.
How dare he. How could he. What the hell.
Now what do i do.
There is nothing i can do.
Nothing to be said.
No where to go.
Nothing to think.
Its all useless.
It will do no good.
I won't be heard.
The tears will reap no reward.
In fact, expressing my feelings as i was so bold (though terrified) to do yesterday led to many times the cataclysm and an entire day of pain, teaching me well to keep my mouth shut.
No, there will be nothing to turn back time and make it go away now. He's done it and that's that. Permantly emblazened as a chip in my freshly repaired heart. Why should he have to answer to me, afterall. "Its the principle" I don't own him.
I am helpless.
Hurt.
And once again alone in my pain.
Dec 6, 2004
Confrontation is scary. I shake and feel afraid. My eyes well up and i want to fall down or run away in hysterics.
But i know i must do it. I must speak my truth. If i learned anything over the past year of outpatient eating disorder treatment, it is that; that if i am to live, i must find a way to identify and express my emotion. To counter depression, I must turn anger out instead of inwards.
Give me strength. i must push on despite being afraid
But i know i must do it. I must speak my truth. If i learned anything over the past year of outpatient eating disorder treatment, it is that; that if i am to live, i must find a way to identify and express my emotion. To counter depression, I must turn anger out instead of inwards.
Give me strength. i must push on despite being afraid
Nov 30, 2004
Mortality
Found out last week that my Dad was diagnosed with leukemia. I think i'm in some sort of denial or something as i keep "forgetting" about it. I guess its not registering. When they visited NY for a couple days last month, i was alarmed by my parents aging faces; sagging skin, tired eyes; my Mom had even recently gotten a hearing aid! Then when i thought about it, i haven't really seen them much for the past 10 years - 1/3 of my lifetime, and i guess time marches on regardless of my absenteeism. Their faces confirmed it; my need to begin developing a new, adult relationship with my them, or should i say, any relationship at all. Its time to repair and mend, forgive and heal.
This will be the first Xmas i've spent with them since highschool (over 10 years) and D is coming no less! That's significant considering how insular (in my interpretation) my parents (used?) to be in the past. Even relatives were viewed with a certain measure of distaste and were not welcomed. D and i have discussed staying for up to 2 weeks. I expect it to be uncomfortable and difficult at times, but also meaningful and special. Unfortunately, D's poor health would make it particularly hard on him, so we'll most likely stay a week (?)..... We'll see.
This will be the first Xmas i've spent with them since highschool (over 10 years) and D is coming no less! That's significant considering how insular (in my interpretation) my parents (used?) to be in the past. Even relatives were viewed with a certain measure of distaste and were not welcomed. D and i have discussed staying for up to 2 weeks. I expect it to be uncomfortable and difficult at times, but also meaningful and special. Unfortunately, D's poor health would make it particularly hard on him, so we'll most likely stay a week (?)..... We'll see.
Nov 29, 2004
End Result
Ok. I gave in and got the curling iron. And hot rollers to boot!
Didn't really turn out how she looked, but that's ok, D smiled a toothy smile and said (for the first time) that i looked beautiful. Though next time i'd prefer to skim a little off the 8 hour completion rate. (!)
Nov 28, 2004
Plastic Curls
D doesn't read my blog anymore. I don't know if that makes me happy or sad. I guess if he did, it would show me he was interested in my thoughts and writing, but then, if he doesn't, i feel less self-conscious. I wonder why he doesn't mention it. He also doesn't write in the awesome Blog of Love that he created special for us many months ago before i moved to New York to be with him; dedicated to the wonder that was our unfolding relationship. And of course, he stopped his own blog. Now I don't have the benefit of hearing those deeply moving and poetic thoughts. His blog was a rare and valuable window into his inner world that i miss terribly.
Its 839am and he fell asleep ("early") about an hour ago while i continued searching the web for tips as to how to create stiff/flat/fakey spiral ribbon curls as witnessed last night on the HB O ::cough, cough:: "Documentary" on P o r n. He said he liked them and they would look good on me if i died my hair blond. This launched me headfirst into a pathetic quest to fulfill his quasi suggestion (since he rarely makes them) and i'm of course desparate for his approval. (Despite that i already have it......... I think.........) I want to be sexier, prettier, lovelier, more clever and charming, magnetic, erotic overall love Goddess. (For him) I want him to see me as the perfect woman and satiate any/all desires that he has, might have, consider having, know that he might possibly have in this or some other lifetime on any given planet, solar system, or perhaps galaxy. Yes, i know this is blatantly co-dependant. Yes, i'm aware that my desparate need to appear attractive is unattractive.
Yada yada yada. Anyway!
I knew immediately what i had to do and braved the bitter cold (i don't own a coat yet) and walked to the neighborhood store loading up on hopeful tools of approval; pins, hairspray, gel, combs.... For some odd reason i deducted through on-line research that "pin curls" would produce the desired spiraled effect. It didn't take long to realize how horribly misguided of an inspiration that was as i unpried tangled hair blobs from my greased up fingers. Not one to be easily deterred, I quickly moved on to bigger and better brilliant ideas as i went on to wrap soggy tendrils dripping with gel, hairspray, and other misc hair goop around and assortment of would-be curlers; rags, bottles, toilet rolls,- anything i could reach-but alas, to no avail!
Now, the situation is becoming increasingly dire as I am actually contemplating walking to the drugstore and resorting to the purchase of an actual curling iron; thus bringing the number of hair appliances in my possesion up to, count em, THREE, yes THREE electric hair devices. (Following recent acquisitions; Hot Iron to accentuate the $400 relaxer D sprung for, and Hair Dryer; inspired one chilly morning by a wet-hair-experience when stinging New York frost lingered like poison arrows in my moist, unsuspecting scalp while D and i waited for our bus; thus clearing up that whole "why-someone-would-own- a-hair-dryer-anyway" mystery for me. (It hadn't really dawned on me me in the tropics of Hawaii.)
Now I'm been debating- do i sneak out now and get it, return home, and get to work?....But then what? Curl and glue, curl and glue, curl and glue into exhaustion only to fall-out fast asleep beside poor D who'd later wake to a vaguely familiar tossled head of post p o r n hair foof? Horror! Oh well, that hideously grating metallic front door would surely wake not only D up anyway, but the rest of the city along with him.
Besides, remind me once again anyways, whyyyyy am i trying to look like a p o r n star againnn?!
::glowering::
Humph!
Its 839am and he fell asleep ("early") about an hour ago while i continued searching the web for tips as to how to create stiff/flat/fakey spiral ribbon curls as witnessed last night on the HB O ::cough, cough:: "Documentary" on P o r n. He said he liked them and they would look good on me if i died my hair blond. This launched me headfirst into a pathetic quest to fulfill his quasi suggestion (since he rarely makes them) and i'm of course desparate for his approval. (Despite that i already have it......... I think.........) I want to be sexier, prettier, lovelier, more clever and charming, magnetic, erotic overall love Goddess. (For him) I want him to see me as the perfect woman and satiate any/all desires that he has, might have, consider having, know that he might possibly have in this or some other lifetime on any given planet, solar system, or perhaps galaxy. Yes, i know this is blatantly co-dependant. Yes, i'm aware that my desparate need to appear attractive is unattractive.
Yada yada yada. Anyway!
I knew immediately what i had to do and braved the bitter cold (i don't own a coat yet) and walked to the neighborhood store loading up on hopeful tools of approval; pins, hairspray, gel, combs.... For some odd reason i deducted through on-line research that "pin curls" would produce the desired spiraled effect. It didn't take long to realize how horribly misguided of an inspiration that was as i unpried tangled hair blobs from my greased up fingers. Not one to be easily deterred, I quickly moved on to bigger and better brilliant ideas as i went on to wrap soggy tendrils dripping with gel, hairspray, and other misc hair goop around and assortment of would-be curlers; rags, bottles, toilet rolls,- anything i could reach-but alas, to no avail!
Now, the situation is becoming increasingly dire as I am actually contemplating walking to the drugstore and resorting to the purchase of an actual curling iron; thus bringing the number of hair appliances in my possesion up to, count em, THREE, yes THREE electric hair devices. (Following recent acquisitions; Hot Iron to accentuate the $400 relaxer D sprung for, and Hair Dryer; inspired one chilly morning by a wet-hair-experience when stinging New York frost lingered like poison arrows in my moist, unsuspecting scalp while D and i waited for our bus; thus clearing up that whole "why-someone-would-own- a-hair-dryer-anyway" mystery for me. (It hadn't really dawned on me me in the tropics of Hawaii.)
Now I'm been debating- do i sneak out now and get it, return home, and get to work?....But then what? Curl and glue, curl and glue, curl and glue into exhaustion only to fall-out fast asleep beside poor D who'd later wake to a vaguely familiar tossled head of post p o r n hair foof? Horror! Oh well, that hideously grating metallic front door would surely wake not only D up anyway, but the rest of the city along with him.
Besides, remind me once again anyways, whyyyyy am i trying to look like a p o r n star againnn?!
::glowering::
Humph!
Nov 27, 2004
Hi Mom!
Well that sounds neat! Looks like you were having alot of fun in the
pictures!!! I did go to D's family Thanksgiving upstate. His
Grandma, his Mom and her partner, his Mom's sister/sister's
husband/son/sister's 3 brothers and their families were there. About
16 people i think.... LOTSSSS OF FOOD. They packed us some leftovers
and boy was i excited to find it was about 10 pounds (literally) of
food including my favorite: about 1/2 a cheescake and 8 cups of
pototo salad... YEAH BUDDY! D's favorite was a pork dish and
spanish rice.... His relatives were very gregarious and fun loving
and there was alot of laughing and joking throughout the evening.... I
thought it was NEAT though D felt the volume could have been
reduced a bit.... HAHA
Things are happy. Happier every day. I just got back from a walk to
the grocery store and will now settle in to playing World Of Warcraft
with him on-line. Its really pretty complex and fun! There's alot
to learn!! Also unpacked my books and have been reading a bit as well as
alot on-line.
We plan to buy Xmas tickets today or the next day. Do you have
recommendations for the dates?
Love,
Indigo
pictures!!! I did go to D's family Thanksgiving upstate. His
Grandma, his Mom and her partner, his Mom's sister/sister's
husband/son/sister's 3 brothers and their families were there. About
16 people i think.... LOTSSSS OF FOOD. They packed us some leftovers
and boy was i excited to find it was about 10 pounds (literally) of
food including my favorite: about 1/2 a cheescake and 8 cups of
pototo salad... YEAH BUDDY! D's favorite was a pork dish and
spanish rice.... His relatives were very gregarious and fun loving
and there was alot of laughing and joking throughout the evening.... I
thought it was NEAT though D felt the volume could have been
reduced a bit.... HAHA
Things are happy. Happier every day. I just got back from a walk to
the grocery store and will now settle in to playing World Of Warcraft
with him on-line. Its really pretty complex and fun! There's alot
to learn!! Also unpacked my books and have been reading a bit as well as
alot on-line.
We plan to buy Xmas tickets today or the next day. Do you have
recommendations for the dates?
Love,
Indigo
Nov 25, 2004
Happy Thanksgiving!
Ohmygooodness! Ohmygooodness! In a few minutes, D's Mom will pick us up and we will ride together to his family's Thanskgiving gathering. EEEeeeks. I'm so going to throw up! I'm so nervous!
Nov 23, 2004
Thanx Emily & Jack!
|
You Are the Individualist |
|
4 You are sensitive and intuitive, with others and yourself. You are creative and dreamy... plus dramatic and unpredictable. You're emotionally honest, real, and easily hurt. Totally expressive, others always know exactly how you feel. |
Think its accurate? Seems it.
Nov 22, 2004
Expectations make for frustration
That's why I hate my birthday. Its one of the more miserable days of the year. I feel the painful affects of unnurtured friendships and isolationism. I bathe myself in self-pity, followed later by affirmations to be a better person. I'll say more when these two injured fingers heal. Its difficult and painful to type.
Nov 20, 2004
31 or Bust
Feeling better. Much better. Long, honest heart-to-hearts with D tend to do that. Renew me. Assuage my fears. Less because of what is said, and more to do with the act itself; as it indicates to me that he cares enough to take the time and make the effort; it represents connection.
And now the countdown; 1 hour and 53 minutes to be exact.
And now the countdown; 1 hour and 53 minutes to be exact.
Nov 19, 2004
Blah blah blah. Woe is me. Woe is me.
I can't believe i just lost this post! Twice! Its disgusting! I poured my guts out. I said what i needed to say. And it was swallowed up into nowhere. Arg i'm so mad! I can't believe it.
Basically i pontificated the wildly fluctuating emotions i've been having the past few days. Its been hard dealing with myself. I'm freaked out that i'll freak D' out. I've felt crazy on more than one occasion. Part of me thinks its due to justified frustrations, part of me thinks i'm either making it all up in my own head and/or the birth control pills are messing me up. I wonder if i'm hardwired to perpetual dissastisfaction, depression and self-pity. Am i capable of sustaining happiness for any significant amount of time? Perhaps i unconsciously sabatoge myself due to a need to maintain the comfort and safety that comes from the familiarity of despair. Perhaps on a deep level i feel i don't deserve different.
Then a thought: perhaps my expectation/desire for happiness is ironically the actual root of my unhappiness. Perhaps it reflects perfectionistic, black & white thinking to expect a constant state of bliss. (Not to mention absurd.)
Perhaps i need to just shut up. Perhaps i am whining and being stupid.
D' has his share of moods too, but, he seems more able to take them in stride. Me? I catastrophize and freak out. Him? He seems to have a more stable, long-term perspective of things while i become panicky and fearful in a heartbeat. Poor David. How will he put up with me? Idiot!
I think i need to get out. I think i need to not think. I think i need to have some fun. Speak to someone or do something new. I'm starting to feel trapped indoors but afraid to leave. I love Dave. I enjoy him. I like being with him and making each other laugh. But, its not fair (or smart) to relegate my emotional health to being dependant on his; hinging upon his every move. That's a ridiculous amount of pressure to dump on him. Does he feel it? Does he notice? I dearly hope not. My recent caretaking and errand running feels good so long as i don't lose myself in the process. I try to contain this fragility as much as possible, but i suspect i've done a poor job.
Did i mention my birthday will be this Sunday? I didn't know if he knew or not until last night. Part of me wanted it to slide by unknown, and unnoted. Part of me hoped for the type of romantic celebration i've never experienced. And Thanksgiving is soon too. We discussed briefly what we'll do. For years now, that's been my relationship with both my birthday and holidays- denial - since holidays tend to evoke feelings of sadness and loneliness for me as opposed to the warm-fuzzies apparantly being experienced by everyone else. I guess they seem to shine a light on a conspicuous lack of loved ones in my daily life and i never liked thinking about the fact that there is nowhere in particular to go on a day intended to celebrate family and love.
Basically i pontificated the wildly fluctuating emotions i've been having the past few days. Its been hard dealing with myself. I'm freaked out that i'll freak D' out. I've felt crazy on more than one occasion. Part of me thinks its due to justified frustrations, part of me thinks i'm either making it all up in my own head and/or the birth control pills are messing me up. I wonder if i'm hardwired to perpetual dissastisfaction, depression and self-pity. Am i capable of sustaining happiness for any significant amount of time? Perhaps i unconsciously sabatoge myself due to a need to maintain the comfort and safety that comes from the familiarity of despair. Perhaps on a deep level i feel i don't deserve different.
Then a thought: perhaps my expectation/desire for happiness is ironically the actual root of my unhappiness. Perhaps it reflects perfectionistic, black & white thinking to expect a constant state of bliss. (Not to mention absurd.)
Perhaps i need to just shut up. Perhaps i am whining and being stupid.
D' has his share of moods too, but, he seems more able to take them in stride. Me? I catastrophize and freak out. Him? He seems to have a more stable, long-term perspective of things while i become panicky and fearful in a heartbeat. Poor David. How will he put up with me? Idiot!
I think i need to get out. I think i need to not think. I think i need to have some fun. Speak to someone or do something new. I'm starting to feel trapped indoors but afraid to leave. I love Dave. I enjoy him. I like being with him and making each other laugh. But, its not fair (or smart) to relegate my emotional health to being dependant on his; hinging upon his every move. That's a ridiculous amount of pressure to dump on him. Does he feel it? Does he notice? I dearly hope not. My recent caretaking and errand running feels good so long as i don't lose myself in the process. I try to contain this fragility as much as possible, but i suspect i've done a poor job.
Did i mention my birthday will be this Sunday? I didn't know if he knew or not until last night. Part of me wanted it to slide by unknown, and unnoted. Part of me hoped for the type of romantic celebration i've never experienced. And Thanksgiving is soon too. We discussed briefly what we'll do. For years now, that's been my relationship with both my birthday and holidays- denial - since holidays tend to evoke feelings of sadness and loneliness for me as opposed to the warm-fuzzies apparantly being experienced by everyone else. I guess they seem to shine a light on a conspicuous lack of loved ones in my daily life and i never liked thinking about the fact that there is nowhere in particular to go on a day intended to celebrate family and love.
Nov 17, 2004
Note & Response
At 11:21 PM, Indigo Blue said…
At 7:28 PM, FluffyValentine said…
hehe! wow! i went to the link...
the process of writing that essay helped me come to terms with a lot of f**ked stuff in our society, and feel more comfortable in the skin that i'm in...and i'm really happy that it touched you too!
By the way Indigo, your blog is great (and I love your writing style)...keep it up ! :P
-Kate.
Ps I really want to do research on how older divorced women deal with re-entering the 'dating scene', and the discriminative limitations etc. placed upon them (re: physique, previously-had children, work, outlook) by our rather ageist society. hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm............
Pps. to anyone who's reading this...
(cliche, i know, but) look at your body as a temple, or a vehicle with a longer life-span than a bloomin' car. we wash our cars, feed them with good quality petrol, service them, insure them. Cars come in diff shapes, makes, and sizes, but they all serve the purpose of getting us from point A to B. So nourish yourself well, get active, remember that what's good for the brain is good for the heart and vice-versa, and stop comparing yourselves (physically) to people in magazines.
1. they're airbrushed
2. depend on their plasticity to get them work
3. are employed to make us feel insecure and thus consume whatever products they're signifying
4. if you were as beautiful as these people, you'd be terribly paranoid that people only liked you for your sex appeal. and people (nasty things that we are) would be more likely to use you.
take care all, i have an exam to write.
Nov 15, 2004
Nov 14, 2004
Surrendering
Trembling
Uncustomary that this is
vision flickers
in sashaying light
this cool rhapsodic night
An inscription
on wafting thighs
gliding divinely by
flying
drifting
feathery mind
Shifting
Lithe
Empyreal sighs
nameless singing
sacred tingling
unfettered and palpitating
sweet
Capitulated and
piqued
Uncustomary that this is
vision flickers
in sashaying light
this cool rhapsodic night
An inscription
on wafting thighs
gliding divinely by
flying
drifting
feathery mind
Shifting
Lithe
Empyreal sighs
nameless singing
sacred tingling
unfettered and palpitating
sweet
Capitulated and
piqued
Nov 12, 2004
Knot Tying
"Welllll, its on the table," he slyly answered his best friend, giggling.
Marriage.
Its not that i'm opposed to it per se, more so that it simply hasn't crossed my mind much. Although i must admit, in the past, the concept has occasionaly, once or twice mayve, evoked some heavie-jeavie feelings related to domestication and routine, dullness, servitude - that sort of thing. I mean really, "for life?!!!" Is that possible?! Is that realistic?! Does anyone really think that that could work?
God i hope so.
Indigo Blues (Part I)
Now that i've resumed writing (Part II), i am reflecting on the original, "Indigo Blues" and whether i want to republish some or all of the original posts. Why?
hmmmm... lemme think...
~the previous time investment?
~will offer a more complete perspective of my journey
~to be more honest?
~i like some of it
~it might be fun?
Why not?
~the more i write, the more exposed i feel
~the more exposed i feel, the less i want to write
~some is embarrassing
~i would like to recreate myself and let it go?
~increases the likelihood that i may be found out and recongnized
~said negative things that i would like not to be discovered (particular family)
Thoughts?
hmmmm... lemme think...
~the previous time investment?
~will offer a more complete perspective of my journey
~to be more honest?
~i like some of it
~it might be fun?
Why not?
~the more i write, the more exposed i feel
~the more exposed i feel, the less i want to write
~some is embarrassing
~i would like to recreate myself and let it go?
~increases the likelihood that i may be found out and recongnized
~said negative things that i would like not to be discovered (particular family)
Thoughts?
I may suck, but at least i went
14 bucks on busses and 20 bucks on cabs, but i made it. And he's INCREDIBLE!!! And i am SO proud of him!!! Its hard to believe that that man with the perfect operatic voice is my little cousin. Unfortunately, i couldn't find him after the show and he doesn't know that i was there.
And now ladies and gentlman, the Quote of the day:
"Courage isn't the absence of fear, its pushing on despite it."
And now ladies and gentlman, the Quote of the day:
"Courage isn't the absence of fear, its pushing on despite it."
Nov 11, 2004
I suck
I recently, against my wishes, seemed to have developed a standard response for 95% of all situations and emotions that i encounter in life. Crying. Crying crying crying crying crying crying over everything. I am ....... so ....... sick ....... of crying. .......Crying cryingcryingcryingcryingcryingcrying over ANYthing. In this particular hour of the night, you'll find me surreptiously attempting to hide the fact that i am crying because i want to see my cousin's opera performance in the city at 8, but i missed the bus because i'm too retarded, i mean scared to find my way there on my own and thus procastinated so long i missed the bus. And by the way,exactly when was it that i became such a wussy again? I've been living more or less alone for the past 10 years and have always been extremely independant. Afterall, who was there to depend on anyway? I learned to enjoy going out to dinner and movies by myself as much as with company, maybe even more. So why does the idea of public transporation in New York evoke fear as powerful as it is irrational? Public transportation makes me feel so vulnerable here. How do you take a subway? Where do you get the tickets? How do you know where you're going and where to get off? How do you get a cab to stop for you? Each of the couple times i've attempted this, i've been yelled at for various inane reasons by agressive/impatient/high strung people - further imbedding me inside my timid bubble. 20 minutes until the next bus into the city. I'll be late but i suppose i could still do it. Now i'm debating - which would be more stressful, facing the unknown of going or the shame of staying home and being a wussy in front of D. Plus, i've been wanting to see my cousin perform for the past 20 years. I've always envied and admired his involvement in theater and now is he truly a seasoned professional. I so would like to see him.
Resume Unabridged
Emily's most recent post got me ta' thinking.... So, what is that i've been doing over the years to secure my fundage? So much was either so inconsequential or plain humiliating, i can barely recall! Thus burried deep in the vaults of the Indigo Hall of Shame. But here - here in Blogland - there is no shame!!! Right?! Right!! It sounds entertaining to dredge the muck and compile a resume truly reflective of ALL my experiences.... An unburdening, if you will..
Of course: standard practice babysitting throughout middle and high school
Winchells
. My first real job. 16 hours of weekend donut peddling in thick crisco saturated air. My frisky white haired boss used to drop glazed raiseds on the soiled cement while frying and crack a joke while swooping down to replace it on the outgoing tray. Dozens of leftover donuts were a) thrown out every night, b) rescued by myself and brought next day to my eagerly salivating 1st period classmates, or, my favorite c) left to sit for several months before blending them with some cinnamon to compose the infamous cinamon crumb donut topping. I saved every dime for 2 years and paid for a month long trip to asia with my earnings.
PS: If i didn't know better, there was some sexual energy between myself and the ol' windbag 4o some years my senior. Kinky or creepy? You decide. He used to walk his pet pig on a leash.
Day Care Center in the mountains;
I used to drive by where they filmed Northen Exposure on the way there. Remember that series? I had the biggest crush on the radio announcer character. He was was so poetic. So romantic and gentle...Babysat a host of rug rats there while an inebriated supervisor would mysteriously dissapear for her extended "breaks", aka: hang at home across the street suckin' on the Mad Dogs. i was so devastated when she fired me, i never told a soul (until this post). I was angry. Confused. Embarrassed. But mostly shocked! "But i'm doing such a great job!" "I keep this place together!" "I don't understand!" I was wronged, but why?! My teenage gut suspected she was threatened by my compentence - but had nothing to prove it, to her, my family, and most importantly, myself. I was so unsettled, that the aftertaste of inadequacy lingered for years... Even now, 10ish years later, i'm often see myself as a "BAD EMPLOYEE" and spend considerable time in jobs waiting "to be found out" and for the proverbial axe to drop.
oh yeah and now that i think about it, as if that wasn't shameful enough, i was FIRED AGAIN - confirming that sense of worthlessness..... coincidentally, it was again a situtation where i'd felt unjustly slighted by middle managment that felt uncomfortable with a young, (possibly precocious?) woman showing them up. There was the part of me that bought into it, and the part of me i'd been doing an incredible job and she was full of crap. This reminds me of this post and THE THREAT which THE COMPENTENT WOMAN presents to ourselves and society. Its a topsyturvy thing. We want it, we don't, we want it, we don't. If MANLY = strong and powerful, than where does that leave the FEMININE? Conversely, WEAK and DEPENDANT and possibly pathetic? Thats a hell of a situation to be put in, isn't it? In order to be feminine and pretty and attractive i must downgrade and minimize my personal strength? I can recall times, especially as a youngster, where i'd unconsiously raise my voice or inadvertantly behave sillier than usual when i found myself in the company of a cute guy i had a thing for. And although i could catch myself in the act, the compulsion towards it irritated me! Its a shame that we often feel we need to define our gender by contrasting ourselves from the other. I don't feel we need to by non-masculine to accentuate our femininty. I prefer to be, and be around those who are comfortable embodying qualityes from both.
Anyway, moving on:
Monterrey
Cold Called singles in L.A. for a Dating Service. At 18, I recall this as being the most extended, personal conversations i'd ever had with real "adults" up until that point. I was struck by the willingness of faceless strangers to divulge intimate thoughts and feelings about their lives with me; random telemarketer #106-384, calling out-of-the-blue, and just a kid, no less. They confided and opened themselves to me as though i was their tele-therapist. Although, i found the stories and connection endlessly interesting, i eventually felt compelled to leave as my sales abilites began to effortlessly increase. After the repetition of many hours and days of calling person after person, patterns of speech and behaviors inadvertantly revealed themselves. And then patterns of how specific people would react to specific feedback. It wasn't a bad or dishonest service, but something about gaining the ability to so easily manipulate scared me. I didn't want that sort of power. I became adept at reading voices to the point that a "Hello" alone provided a storehouse of information; age, gender, mood, temperment, economic class, background, personality traits.... I discovered if someone was willing to answer the first question, then they were putty, often staying on the line for a half an hour or more.
Initally,I worked there because it was interesting and i believed in the service allowing me to speak with sincerity and enthusiasm. What changed was that the motivation became clouded by ability which interrupted my internal intentions. That was the conflict. How could i speak sincerely when i became increasingly adept at honing in on "what would work."
Telemarketed
Coupon Books with Wendy. I never was a morning person, until then. I used to love waking up on the couch after a night with James and driving together in her little blue hoopty as the Salinas hills glowed in the fresh morning sun. There was something about the comraderie that made the mundane, silly job exciting, fulfillfing even. She was so adult with that irish creme thermos precariously stuck between the seats, dangerously sipping as she haphazardly worked the clutch.
Telemarketing Again -
Sat in a wherehouse full of rows and rows of desparate people in cubicles with telemarketing Long Distance phone service, Smoking Surveys, or whatever the assingment was for the day - each cubicle contained a computer had a headset attached that automatically cued the next call and displayed a script with cues according to responses "press here for yes, here for no"
JC Penneys:
sold suits and dresses - favorite part: hiding my size deep in the storage closet until i'd marked the others down on clearance - by the time it was practically free, what do you know, my size would mysteriously resurface! Had a full on professional wardrobe by the time i was done! (Is that wrong?)
Talbott Tie Factory:
Worked at a factory of freakishly dexterious philopino women ripping fabric swatches off of books - for E I G H T hours a day - while a few puffy white men in suits hoovered in the area clucking,looking on.
William Dierecks
(Photo copiers, i think?) Data enterer (i think?) whatever it was, it must not have taken too much concentration since i recall bringing a walkman and listening to 8 hours of NPR a day while doing it. Received an "employee of the month" award from the temp service that referred me there for my efforts. The jet-printed token made my day.
Hospital Medical Records Filing
-inadvertantly discovered all kinds of dirt about random people in the community - apparently confidentiality wasn't so pressing that a temp worker like me couldn't see the personal medical records of everyone in town. Learned of surprising abortions, alcohol induced car accidents and even adoption info!
Data Entry
for the State social service department: 8 hours a day of typing numbers. We were allowed two 5 minute breaks EXACTLY and scolded severly for being seconds late. as a temp, i got into the groove after a couple months - it was like meditating after a while. but i couldn't help but to feel quasi-sorry for the people who'd been doing it for 1o+ years. weren't they dying of boredom?
Even worse excruciating boredom; working on an assembly line at a bottling factory for a few days - the roar of machines was deafening... what a crazy environment to spend 40+ hours of your life a week.... school began to look more and more worthwhile< Group Home on-call counselor at respite home - temporary emergency shelter for kids placed only a few days Foster Kid Visitation Supervision (translation: i transported kids to visit their birth families and watched em hang out)
Mentor Respite Care: T - the kid everyone hated at the Group Home but somehow got along great with me - Why? My theory; he liked me (and vice versa) simply because i treated him like a human being.... not a bad person or with condescention... its easy in a "helping position" to take your power for granted... teachers, doctors, social workers, cops; they all inherently posess a certain level of status and power "over" "Clients"..... being the RECIPIENT of HELP can make you feel small and vulnerable and dumb and its necessary to be aware of that dynamic as the HELPER.... its a delicate dance to help while demphasizing the imbalance - because everyone wants to be special (including the HELPER), i think its natural to fall into the HERO role and unconsciously exploit or brandish prestige like a medal.
Facilitated a county program for kids arrested for misdemeanors - instead of going through the criminal "justice" system, they were allowed 1 chance at this Diversion program instead. I sat down with the offending kid, a handful of community volunteers and faciliated their "Community Accountability" meeting. The kid basically explained what he did and then discussed the impact it had on the community. Then they were given some sort of alternative "sentencing" by the board while the kid and crying parents left the room. Usually it was something like, collect canned food for the homeless or pay back what you stole... That sort of thing. Had mixed feelings about it at the time considering i was virtually an anarchist myself and often identified more with the kiddies than the arrogant self important "volunteers" who seemed to enjoy (once again) wielding power and making the families squirm. The worst part- the things they'd say once the families were out of the room. Rather than focus on the "crime" or the best interst of the child's learning, they'd ostracize them for their purple hair, etc. The whole thing made me sad. Very sad and often frustrated, as i recall.
Jail/Group Home Facilitator-
worst job ever. 2 Staff people for twenty 16-21 year old felony offenders transitioning out of the highest security juvenile jail in the state. I was only 23 at the time? (I think?) I'm sure i appeared to be a total joke to those guys. A 5'2" college GIRL trying to be tough but not doing well. The other staff were unsupportive and clique'ish. What a sour introduction to the "helping profession." No on cared about those kids, for real. 2 counselors for 20 extremely high-need kids trapped in the system? Our (married) boss was having an affair with the prison contact and the institution was simply a branch of a larger BUSINESS that often employed the boys at their factory for a wage considebly lower than their coworkers. Of course, it was still higer than what WE were getting working as their Care Taker/Guard/Facilitators. - Totally fucked up situation, totally fucked up job. A hopeless situation for everyone involved. Most especially the kids. No concrete services were being provided that would change their misguided, violent lives in any significant way.
Filed/Organized for my Dance Guru in exchange for private lessons
HAWAII
Receptionist for 2 brain killing years at an upscale Escrow Company - greeted the likes of Gomer Pile and an aging I Dream of Jeanie
Yet another Group Home for 3 years - counselor, token manager, and all-around grunt peon of the social service machine. that company didn't give a shit about anything about but the bottom line baby - screw the people. too vad its the biggest social service agency in Hawaii. every coworker of the 700 in the company i ever spoke to was angry and resentful of the way they and the clients were treated. not very inspiring. not too happy. not too motivating. and didn't exactly make social services seem like a very attractive profession to continue with. (do i want to continue in grad school now????) blah. seemed like alot of stress and mistreatment for very little money
Facilitated a few ropes course groups
A year working for a guy i first met from a personal ad - we went on a couple dates and bugged him to hire me so i could be closer to him - i was convinced if only he knew me better he'd grow to love me - HAha- i never did make my true intentions known and he may have been puzzled at my hasty angry exit upon his hasty marriage to a dingy. child-like non-english speaking woman, i bought them a bread maker for their beachfront wedding and hugged him like a brother under a tropical tiki torch, secretly harboring a broken heart
And most recently
worked for P organizing his inconceivably disorganized business/office
And
Teaching - an alternative program for teens unable to graduate due to excessive abscense or discipline problems... Most were several grades behind. Some of them could barely read and write. How they ever got as far as they did was beyond me. Couldn't help but to think it reflected that something was terribly wrong with the eductional system there....<>
I'm sure there's more....
I'll keep adding details and anecdotes as they come to me the next few days.....
Of course: standard practice babysitting throughout middle and high school
Winchells
. My first real job. 16 hours of weekend donut peddling in thick crisco saturated air. My frisky white haired boss used to drop glazed raiseds on the soiled cement while frying and crack a joke while swooping down to replace it on the outgoing tray. Dozens of leftover donuts were a) thrown out every night, b) rescued by myself and brought next day to my eagerly salivating 1st period classmates, or, my favorite c) left to sit for several months before blending them with some cinnamon to compose the infamous cinamon crumb donut topping. I saved every dime for 2 years and paid for a month long trip to asia with my earnings.
PS: If i didn't know better, there was some sexual energy between myself and the ol' windbag 4o some years my senior. Kinky or creepy? You decide. He used to walk his pet pig on a leash.
Day Care Center in the mountains;
I used to drive by where they filmed Northen Exposure on the way there. Remember that series? I had the biggest crush on the radio announcer character. He was was so poetic. So romantic and gentle...Babysat a host of rug rats there while an inebriated supervisor would mysteriously dissapear for her extended "breaks", aka: hang at home across the street suckin' on the Mad Dogs. i was so devastated when she fired me, i never told a soul (until this post). I was angry. Confused. Embarrassed. But mostly shocked! "But i'm doing such a great job!" "I keep this place together!" "I don't understand!" I was wronged, but why?! My teenage gut suspected she was threatened by my compentence - but had nothing to prove it, to her, my family, and most importantly, myself. I was so unsettled, that the aftertaste of inadequacy lingered for years... Even now, 10ish years later, i'm often see myself as a "BAD EMPLOYEE" and spend considerable time in jobs waiting "to be found out" and for the proverbial axe to drop.
oh yeah and now that i think about it, as if that wasn't shameful enough, i was FIRED AGAIN - confirming that sense of worthlessness..... coincidentally, it was again a situtation where i'd felt unjustly slighted by middle managment that felt uncomfortable with a young, (possibly precocious?) woman showing them up. There was the part of me that bought into it, and the part of me i'd been doing an incredible job and she was full of crap. This reminds me of this post and THE THREAT which THE COMPENTENT WOMAN presents to ourselves and society. Its a topsyturvy thing. We want it, we don't, we want it, we don't. If MANLY = strong and powerful, than where does that leave the FEMININE? Conversely, WEAK and DEPENDANT and possibly pathetic? Thats a hell of a situation to be put in, isn't it? In order to be feminine and pretty and attractive i must downgrade and minimize my personal strength? I can recall times, especially as a youngster, where i'd unconsiously raise my voice or inadvertantly behave sillier than usual when i found myself in the company of a cute guy i had a thing for. And although i could catch myself in the act, the compulsion towards it irritated me! Its a shame that we often feel we need to define our gender by contrasting ourselves from the other. I don't feel we need to by non-masculine to accentuate our femininty. I prefer to be, and be around those who are comfortable embodying qualityes from both.
Anyway, moving on:
Monterrey
Cold Called singles in L.A. for a Dating Service. At 18, I recall this as being the most extended, personal conversations i'd ever had with real "adults" up until that point. I was struck by the willingness of faceless strangers to divulge intimate thoughts and feelings about their lives with me; random telemarketer #106-384, calling out-of-the-blue, and just a kid, no less. They confided and opened themselves to me as though i was their tele-therapist. Although, i found the stories and connection endlessly interesting, i eventually felt compelled to leave as my sales abilites began to effortlessly increase. After the repetition of many hours and days of calling person after person, patterns of speech and behaviors inadvertantly revealed themselves. And then patterns of how specific people would react to specific feedback. It wasn't a bad or dishonest service, but something about gaining the ability to so easily manipulate scared me. I didn't want that sort of power. I became adept at reading voices to the point that a "Hello" alone provided a storehouse of information; age, gender, mood, temperment, economic class, background, personality traits.... I discovered if someone was willing to answer the first question, then they were putty, often staying on the line for a half an hour or more.
Initally,I worked there because it was interesting and i believed in the service allowing me to speak with sincerity and enthusiasm. What changed was that the motivation became clouded by ability which interrupted my internal intentions. That was the conflict. How could i speak sincerely when i became increasingly adept at honing in on "what would work."
Telemarketed
Coupon Books with Wendy. I never was a morning person, until then. I used to love waking up on the couch after a night with James and driving together in her little blue hoopty as the Salinas hills glowed in the fresh morning sun. There was something about the comraderie that made the mundane, silly job exciting, fulfillfing even. She was so adult with that irish creme thermos precariously stuck between the seats, dangerously sipping as she haphazardly worked the clutch.
Telemarketing Again -
Sat in a wherehouse full of rows and rows of desparate people in cubicles with telemarketing Long Distance phone service, Smoking Surveys, or whatever the assingment was for the day - each cubicle contained a computer had a headset attached that automatically cued the next call and displayed a script with cues according to responses "press here for yes, here for no"
JC Penneys:
sold suits and dresses - favorite part: hiding my size deep in the storage closet until i'd marked the others down on clearance - by the time it was practically free, what do you know, my size would mysteriously resurface! Had a full on professional wardrobe by the time i was done! (Is that wrong?)
Talbott Tie Factory:
Worked at a factory of freakishly dexterious philopino women ripping fabric swatches off of books - for E I G H T hours a day - while a few puffy white men in suits hoovered in the area clucking,looking on.
William Dierecks
(Photo copiers, i think?) Data enterer (i think?) whatever it was, it must not have taken too much concentration since i recall bringing a walkman and listening to 8 hours of NPR a day while doing it. Received an "employee of the month" award from the temp service that referred me there for my efforts. The jet-printed token made my day.
Hospital Medical Records Filing
-inadvertantly discovered all kinds of dirt about random people in the community - apparently confidentiality wasn't so pressing that a temp worker like me couldn't see the personal medical records of everyone in town. Learned of surprising abortions, alcohol induced car accidents and even adoption info!
Data Entry
for the State social service department: 8 hours a day of typing numbers. We were allowed two 5 minute breaks EXACTLY and scolded severly for being seconds late. as a temp, i got into the groove after a couple months - it was like meditating after a while. but i couldn't help but to feel quasi-sorry for the people who'd been doing it for 1o+ years. weren't they dying of boredom?
Even worse excruciating boredom; working on an assembly line at a bottling factory for a few days - the roar of machines was deafening... what a crazy environment to spend 40+ hours of your life a week.... school began to look more and more worthwhile< Group Home on-call counselor at respite home - temporary emergency shelter for kids placed only a few days Foster Kid Visitation Supervision (translation: i transported kids to visit their birth families and watched em hang out)
Mentor Respite Care: T - the kid everyone hated at the Group Home but somehow got along great with me - Why? My theory; he liked me (and vice versa) simply because i treated him like a human being.... not a bad person or with condescention... its easy in a "helping position" to take your power for granted... teachers, doctors, social workers, cops; they all inherently posess a certain level of status and power "over" "Clients"..... being the RECIPIENT of HELP can make you feel small and vulnerable and dumb and its necessary to be aware of that dynamic as the HELPER.... its a delicate dance to help while demphasizing the imbalance - because everyone wants to be special (including the HELPER), i think its natural to fall into the HERO role and unconsciously exploit or brandish prestige like a medal.
Facilitated a county program for kids arrested for misdemeanors - instead of going through the criminal "justice" system, they were allowed 1 chance at this Diversion program instead. I sat down with the offending kid, a handful of community volunteers and faciliated their "Community Accountability" meeting. The kid basically explained what he did and then discussed the impact it had on the community. Then they were given some sort of alternative "sentencing" by the board while the kid and crying parents left the room. Usually it was something like, collect canned food for the homeless or pay back what you stole... That sort of thing. Had mixed feelings about it at the time considering i was virtually an anarchist myself and often identified more with the kiddies than the arrogant self important "volunteers" who seemed to enjoy (once again) wielding power and making the families squirm. The worst part- the things they'd say once the families were out of the room. Rather than focus on the "crime" or the best interst of the child's learning, they'd ostracize them for their purple hair, etc. The whole thing made me sad. Very sad and often frustrated, as i recall.
Jail/Group Home Facilitator-
worst job ever. 2 Staff people for twenty 16-21 year old felony offenders transitioning out of the highest security juvenile jail in the state. I was only 23 at the time? (I think?) I'm sure i appeared to be a total joke to those guys. A 5'2" college GIRL trying to be tough but not doing well. The other staff were unsupportive and clique'ish. What a sour introduction to the "helping profession." No on cared about those kids, for real. 2 counselors for 20 extremely high-need kids trapped in the system? Our (married) boss was having an affair with the prison contact and the institution was simply a branch of a larger BUSINESS that often employed the boys at their factory for a wage considebly lower than their coworkers. Of course, it was still higer than what WE were getting working as their Care Taker/Guard/Facilitators. - Totally fucked up situation, totally fucked up job. A hopeless situation for everyone involved. Most especially the kids. No concrete services were being provided that would change their misguided, violent lives in any significant way.
Filed/Organized for my Dance Guru in exchange for private lessons
HAWAII
Receptionist for 2 brain killing years at an upscale Escrow Company - greeted the likes of Gomer Pile and an aging I Dream of Jeanie
Yet another Group Home for 3 years - counselor, token manager, and all-around grunt peon of the social service machine. that company didn't give a shit about anything about but the bottom line baby - screw the people. too vad its the biggest social service agency in Hawaii. every coworker of the 700 in the company i ever spoke to was angry and resentful of the way they and the clients were treated. not very inspiring. not too happy. not too motivating. and didn't exactly make social services seem like a very attractive profession to continue with. (do i want to continue in grad school now????) blah. seemed like alot of stress and mistreatment for very little money
Facilitated a few ropes course groups
A year working for a guy i first met from a personal ad - we went on a couple dates and bugged him to hire me so i could be closer to him - i was convinced if only he knew me better he'd grow to love me - HAha- i never did make my true intentions known and he may have been puzzled at my hasty angry exit upon his hasty marriage to a dingy. child-like non-english speaking woman, i bought them a bread maker for their beachfront wedding and hugged him like a brother under a tropical tiki torch, secretly harboring a broken heart
And most recently
worked for P organizing his inconceivably disorganized business/office
And
Teaching - an alternative program for teens unable to graduate due to excessive abscense or discipline problems... Most were several grades behind. Some of them could barely read and write. How they ever got as far as they did was beyond me. Couldn't help but to think it reflected that something was terribly wrong with the eductional system there....<>
I'm sure there's more....
I'll keep adding details and anecdotes as they come to me the next few days.....
Nov 10, 2004
Beauty Is But a Well Wielded Commodity - a vehicle for commercial exploitation
I stumbled across a young woman's blog who published a TERRIFIC PAPER (i think) regarding gender and body image. Or, more specifically,
"Body as a Cultural Product: How does thinking about the body as a
cultural product affect our understanding of beauty and femininity?"
I found it so inspiring, it made me long to go to school again. I wish everyone would read this and was aware of these issues.
Along these lines, i found a similarly themed, though lighter scene from the movie, "Beautiful Girls." Have you seen it? I don't think i'd even heard of it before surfing by the site where which i will proceed to now rip off. Okay. Here goes:
Tommy (Matt Dillon): I'd go along with that.
Gina: Yeah, that's nice, right? Well, it doesn't exist, okay? Look at the hair. The hair is long, it's flowing, it's like a river. Well, it's a fucking weave, okay? And the tits. Please, I could hang my overcoat on them. Tits, by design, are intended to be suckled by babies. Yeah, they're purely functional. These are silcone city. And look, my favorite, the shaved pubis. Pubic hair being so unruly and all. Very vain. This is a mockery, this is a sham, this is bullshit. Implants, calogen, plastics, capped teeth, the fat sucked out, the hair extended, the nose fixed, the bush sh-these are not real women, alright? They're beauty freaks. And they make all us normal women with our wrinkles, our puckered boobs, hi Bob, our cellulite, seem somewhat inadequate. Well, I don't buy it, alright? What you fuckers, you think is that there's a chance in hell that you'll end up with one of these women you don't give us real women any thing approaching a commitment. It's pathetic. I don't know what you think you're going to do. You're going to end up 80 years old, drooling in some nursing home, and then you'll decide that it's time to settle down, get married, have kids? What are you going to do: find a cheerleader? Charge it, Mitch.
Willie (Timothy Hutton): I think you're over simplifying.
Gina: Oh, eat me. Look at Paul--with his models on the wall, his dog named Elle Macpherson. He's insane! He's obsessed. You're all obsessed. If you had an ounce of self-esteem, of self-worth, of self-confidence, you would realize that as trite as it may sound: beauty is truly skin deep. And you know what? If you ever did hook one of those girls, I guarantee you'd be sick of her.
Tommy: (looking at the magazine) Yeah, I suppose I'd get sick of her, after about, what, 20 or 30 years?
Gina: Get over yourself.
Tommy: What?
(They leave the store)
Gina: No matter how perfect the nipple, how supple the thigh, unless there's some other shit going on in the relationship besides physical, it's going get old, okay? And you guys, as a gender, have got to get a grip, otherwise the future of the human race is in jeopardy.
"Body as a Cultural Product: How does thinking about the body as a
cultural product affect our understanding of beauty and femininity?"
I found it so inspiring, it made me long to go to school again. I wish everyone would read this and was aware of these issues.
Along these lines, i found a similarly themed, though lighter scene from the movie, "Beautiful Girls." Have you seen it? I don't think i'd even heard of it before surfing by the site where which i will proceed to now rip off. Okay. Here goes:
"Gina Against the Models of the World
written by Scott Rosenberg
Gina: I'm speaking to both you, okay, you're both fucking insane. You wanna know what your problem is? MTV, Playboys, and Madison fucking Avenue. Yeah. Let me explain something to you. OK, look, girls with big tits have big asses, girls with little tits have little asses. That's the way it goes. God doesn't fuck around, he's a fair guy. He gave the fatties big, beautiful tits, and the skinnies little, tiny niddlers. If you don't like it, call him. (entering store) Hey Mitch. Thank you. Oh guys, look what we have here. (picking up Penthouse magazine and opening it) Look at this: your favorite. Oh, you like that?
written by Scott Rosenberg
Tommy (Matt Dillon): I'd go along with that.
Gina: Yeah, that's nice, right? Well, it doesn't exist, okay? Look at the hair. The hair is long, it's flowing, it's like a river. Well, it's a fucking weave, okay? And the tits. Please, I could hang my overcoat on them. Tits, by design, are intended to be suckled by babies. Yeah, they're purely functional. These are silcone city. And look, my favorite, the shaved pubis. Pubic hair being so unruly and all. Very vain. This is a mockery, this is a sham, this is bullshit. Implants, calogen, plastics, capped teeth, the fat sucked out, the hair extended, the nose fixed, the bush sh-these are not real women, alright? They're beauty freaks. And they make all us normal women with our wrinkles, our puckered boobs, hi Bob, our cellulite, seem somewhat inadequate. Well, I don't buy it, alright? What you fuckers, you think is that there's a chance in hell that you'll end up with one of these women you don't give us real women any thing approaching a commitment. It's pathetic. I don't know what you think you're going to do. You're going to end up 80 years old, drooling in some nursing home, and then you'll decide that it's time to settle down, get married, have kids? What are you going to do: find a cheerleader? Charge it, Mitch.
Willie (Timothy Hutton): I think you're over simplifying.
Gina: Oh, eat me. Look at Paul--with his models on the wall, his dog named Elle Macpherson. He's insane! He's obsessed. You're all obsessed. If you had an ounce of self-esteem, of self-worth, of self-confidence, you would realize that as trite as it may sound: beauty is truly skin deep. And you know what? If you ever did hook one of those girls, I guarantee you'd be sick of her.
Tommy: (looking at the magazine) Yeah, I suppose I'd get sick of her, after about, what, 20 or 30 years?
Gina: Get over yourself.
Tommy: What?
(They leave the store)
Gina: No matter how perfect the nipple, how supple the thigh, unless there's some other shit going on in the relationship besides physical, it's going get old, okay? And you guys, as a gender, have got to get a grip, otherwise the future of the human race is in jeopardy.
Thanks again Kate...
http://indigo-blues.blogspot.com/2004/11/beauty-is-but-well-wielded-commodity.html
Aloha,
indigo