Oh Women...

Mike was right in that women shouldn't have to feel insecure with each other because of men, and unfortuneately, I've been doing just that. Yesterday I felt ashamed and defensive because I was comfortable with a situation another woman was not. I felt like I was a bad person because I love myself, because I am brave and confident, as though these are bad qualities that should be changed and stifled. It makes me feel sick to think of it now, but those feelings still linger even after this recognition. I felt as though the world, particularly those involved in the situation, viewed the other woman as "better" than me because she was insecure with herself and intimidated by me, and this was my fault for coming out from under that repressive rock like a dangerous snake searching for prey, when all I wanted was to enjoy the sunshine for awhile and show her that it's okay to enjoy it, too. Is that really wrong? Should I really feel ashamed for that? No wonder women cannot seem to rise up from all the crap they've endured for centuries! We have to stop putting ourselves and each other down and start opening up to The Sisterhood or we will all fall, and how can life continue without women? How can love continue without life? What is the point of an existence without love (if there even is such a thing)? Do we really want to fade away into the darkness? We have to believe that our souls are stronger than that and start shining our lights onto others, because whether we try or not, someone is going to see our lights. What's the point of causing someone eyestrain when you can show them love and beauty?

don't think about it

ew. How does something like that even happen? It doesn't make sense it took me this long to remember it and even longer to realize it, but age sixteen was a forgetful one, no wonder we're so keen to forget things, no wonder no wonder and is it the timing? Why now? Why do I remember things now when it doesn't even matter? Weird resurface process. How is it we're able to block memories but not cast them out? Think about the right things in the right combination, and voila! Our rubix cube has shifted enough to reveal the secret, the one you forgot you had, and stare at it and say, "I'm glad I didn't see you two years ago, but I'm past caring." Is that what everyone saw and tried to warn me about? No one knew but it showed, it really is a gradual process and another part of you does take over, steps in to handle the dirty work and the real you just sort of goes away for awhile, occasionally waving out from behind a window.

Candy Girl

I was thinking that I could be a chocolatier, most likely later in life when I have the time and money--not to mention a knowledge of the world's flavors and formulas, but I could make the most elegant confections and they'd taste so good! Why the hell did we never think of that as a job for me? Remember my childhood holiday and birthday wish lists? "1. Barbies 2. Candy" Are those not what most-to-all of my chore-money purchased? Since my interest in collecting plastic dolls has somewhat waned, I'd say I'm more likely to invest in the latter. As it is, I bake such tasty, pretty little things, and if it were CANDY, well, hey! Plus, I could do something political with it, like be a famous FAIR-TRADE chocolatier who uses recycled packaging and animal-friendly ingredients!

If I'm never as good as "she" in my own mind, how can I hope to be better than she is in his? And why must it always be like that? What is my hangup in accepting and realizing the fact that love is not quantitative, nor should it be measured comparatively? Isn't all love simultaneously collective AND unique? How can one of the world's most-loved people feel like one of the most love-starved? Is Chaucer correct when he describes a lover as victim, causing him to describe his struggle with love as such: "For ay thurst I, the more that ich it drynke," ? Am I the only one with this problem? Am I the only one who asks these questions? Will I ever get answers, and will I ever believe them enough to live them?

Too Much Harry Potter

But then, is that even possible? Okay kids, here's the plan: I'm going to go off on my Harry Potter rant and then explain what caused it. Sound good? I think so!

One of the most painful things about reading the Harry Potter series is playing the part of the impotent witness to so much abuse and so many close-calls of it almost worked out for him...damn it! Like all the stuff with Sirius. I mean, what is that?! Finally a chance to have a family, to move away, and he's put back into hiding. Then, once he finally begins to be accepted on the down-low, he "dies." Obviously, I have my theories on THAT one. But still. So, here I am, thinking up little ways for it to work out for him, and I started thinking about how nice it would be if Tonks and Lupin got married and then adopted Harry before I remember that by the time that happens, Harry will be eighteen. I wonder if he still remembers how to do math and things. I guess by age eleven, we don't really learn that much math, do we? Just adding and long division. Anyway, the reason I think about all this now, particularly at six in the morning, is that we all know Harry wakes up with his scar (located on his head) hurting, usually resultant of a dream. I woke up with a horrible headache after a bad dream. No, I'm not saying I'm Harry Potter (although we DO have the same birthday...tee hee!), but rather than think about my dream, I prefer to escape into the world my fellow geeks and I dream up.

Now, what about this dream? In real life, my dad had "pyscho-bitch" Clarissa visit him over last week. Sick. I love how he doesn't find the time to write me when I ask him specific questions while I'm overseas, and then, the moment she leaves, he goes on at great lengths to describe how they "enjoyed each other's company." She was such a hag already, and I find it difficult to believe that age has been gracious to her. Anyway, in my dream, Dad said he was getting married to her and I started yelling at him about how he told me to shoot him if he ever thought about getting married again and how I do love him and want him to be happy but I can't see that with her, considering I don't have strong memories of her making him happy (Hmmm, let me think, what happened again? Was it that their relationship led to dischord and separation between him and his children and then when they broke up, didn't he want to kill himself? Fuck me, I should be more supportive!!!) But I'm sick of having these horrible dreams about myself. I've been trying to be a better person, trying to be more rational and patient, and is this a sign that deep down, I'm just an untameable beast? Yes, I am very passionate and I love that about myself, but I want to be Alexis served with a side of Passion, not Passion with a little bit of Alexis (optional)thrown in for flavor.