Alias Grace

Imagine, if you will, that you are a woman and your position in life is already compromised. Your body indicated for servitude both for vocation and male sexual desire. Your voice is silent before you speak. If you dare speak you are hysterical, or worse a whore not worth given credence. Your mind is easily susceptible to bad spirits and incomprehensible thoughts simply because you are born of a sex religiously deemed devious.

alias

That is Grace Marks, a woman determined so by natural devices, at the age of 15 or 16 years old. An Irish immigrant already expected poverty. Already, so early she is to be told by society what her body is good and useful for and that is servitude.

Every order given to her is expected of utmost obedience. Every action by her own is acted as innocence.

If she ever denies any order she is suddenly ‘filthy’, a ‘whore’, or ‘untrustworthy’.

What stood out to me in this miniseries is the ‘doctor of the mind’. A psychiatrist named Simon, given permission to have sessions with Grace in order to stir her memory of the events again. Then again, what memories are there to stir if the events of murder were never seen or properly recollected? Regardless he was curious, always on the edge, sleepless even to know more about Grace and her story. Simon had supposed that Grace was either somewhere along the lines of insanity or a woman who had found a means to break away from the suppression of her body.

She had become clever, he thought even. To express what one may think is rage against what was done to her and any other woman; or to express her anger of suppression. Suppression- that is to clean and to care at so young of an age. Suppression- that also means to give her body to any man’s will with a command for her consent. She had then created an audience with her hysterics. An audience composed of wealthy gossipers and then potential romantic partners, including Simon. He then supposed that that was her intention, even one that cost nearly her life.

It’s definitely a curious subject here. If you were a woman of that time period-and had to witness what that meant exactly, would you become a fiend to speak on it?

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Bullied

Another yesterday news described the sudden death of a 10 year old. Under the constant agony of children too limited to understand that words in fact hurt, the young child had committed suicide.

Some of the first defense by adults is to blame the victim. The victim was not tough enough. The victim should have been taught to fight back. The victim should have been taught to meet violence with violence, and to equal harsh words with their own. Why the need to ‘toughen’ the victim with this idiocy-a world where we are expected to be cruel and nasty? Why? It’s with this understanding that the world isn’t nice and life isn’t fair, therefore only the ‘weak minded’ may slip away as the ‘strong willed’ succeed. This is life and this is the first lesson.

What, just why should there be a need to defend at all? Not just a child, as this issue extends well into adulthood- and we wonder how young bullies are shaped and made. We are always taught to, or even expected to allow the bully to win over our minds and confidence by engaging them in their own struggle. If we lose, yet live we proved our worth still, even if it may escalate the bully’s intentions. If we win, we proved our worth, may even expose the cowardice of the bully. If we fail to meet the pointless challenge to the bully’s ego it is then society that hounds us for not defending our worth. And it is pointless to engage as with this understanding we allow the bully to control the situations of either a life scarred or of sudden death. We then make it seem as if the bully is in the ‘right’, while all others unable to or not willing to engage are in the ‘wrong’.

I mean I understand the pointless matter of this challenge all too well. Growing up not understanding why I, quiet and only concerned with myself, would find harsh words lashed at me. Or to hear of false assumptions about my character used as a weapon. Or in some cases, being physically ridiculed in front of witnesses to test my patience. I had only lost my patience once. This extends from memories of an 8 year old to that of 21 year old in college, in a communal situation. For the life of me I could not understand why I was tested, essentially. Comments made about my appearance, lack of engagement in social settings, etc, etc. I had to be told that it’s a game we play to disturb the peace of an individual so that their worth is proved. Again, only once did I engage. He kicked me and laughed so I kicked him back, madly. All that I learned is that I was furious that my peace was disturbed and I didn’t feel any better being just as equally cruel and nasty. He had won me over, and I played his game. All other altercations I ignored with my face quenched or to show that I was slightly annoyed but no longer listening. At some point I had allowed them to talk, to laugh and to point at me until this became ‘boring’ to them. Left alone only for a moment, for another person or group to test me yet again. Until now no longer.

I was never driven to suicide or self harm, but depression did take a hold of me during these times. Not that their words and actions hurt me, just that I was more so hurt that this is how they were towards someone seemingly different. And hurt by that I must endure this treatment to be taught a lesson, or to be told ‘this is simply how people are so get on board and play along or become left.’ For others like myself we may move along and endure, others play, and some others ‘fail to defend’.

We shouldn’t have to allow our world to be met and decided by that of a bully. We should not have to defend, to allow the peace of an individual to be disturbed. This too should be taught and engrained into our children so that they may forever silence the adult bully. We should not have to do anything other than to counsel the bully, to source the root of their unwillingness to live peacefully-as the problem lies and first begin with that person.

Mud Bound

Movie story lines usually leave the story that I find more interesting. Here in MudBound (2017) the story about the woman leaves me interested for more.

The story begins with a woman describing the mud surrounding the home, really a shack-like place on a farm. The year is near the end of World War II. Men are being sent back home to where they no longer belong; one other sent to their grave. It’s another story about familiarity and the effects of a changing environment. You know where you have gone out to experience that there is more than the world you first knew at any age. So you’ll find any means to escape, or to find someone else to relate. In the end you may or may not find that place where you belong, but in this film the men will do.

The woman.

She is already nearing her middle ages and not yet married. A woman from a family middle class meets a man assumed to be similar in social status. By no means is she a farmer, nor does he mention his background to her. But as women are expected to be told at a later time, whenever it’ll suite him to reveal that there is a farm he wants to plow and a nice farmhouse he wants his family to reside in. ‘You’ll like, you’ll see’. She must hush her initial fuss about this news of moving on from what and where she is familiar.

Through some scheme and false transaction, the dream home for his family is just that-imagined. Instead he moves them to the shack, among the ‘blacks’ but we know in this time another word was stated. At this point, she looks about a house with a leaking roof, mud all around ruining one of her best dress heels. She can only tolerate so much, and so she tells him she can only tolerate so much up to this point.

mudbound

Outside of her element she did learn a few things. She knows her way around a shotgun. She’s not too squeamish about the initial acts of providing protein for her children. She even became accustomed to not bathing for most days of the week. However, once the children became sick her ability to care for both her children and home became too overwhelming. In fact, help turned into ‘I can’t do this (alone)’. In the slightest, the black tenant farmer on down the road somewhere must lend his wife for paid assistance.

At first the woman is strong, allowing her new environment to teach her a lesson about survival. However, in an instance does she give away her power ‘to know’ to someone who knows more by traditional upbringing.  I want to know more about her story, as it turns to love instead. I want to know how did she manage to cope once the black tenants packed and moved away.

How did she come to find where she belongs?

Well some people are fortunate to find where they belong, soon as the men do. However, not the woman. In any indication where her story ends her life is that of a farmer’s (sharecropper) wife, still outside of her element. Inside her home is a piano and books, fine China and whatever else the white tenants down the road somewhere are not familiar. In any other case she proves to be unfaithful, once again to marry the first man that saw her. But now no longer sheltered she knows her desires, still she assumes a voice whenever in objection to her husband. Where does she go or does she simply comply in slight misery til death?

In those times, back then I’ll assume she remains in slight misery.

Allegations

Coming out from a decade ago to incidents that have occurred recently, both women and men are coming forward with stories of sexual assault, harassment and abuse. The fingers are pointed at our upper class-the celebrities and businessmen, as well as our politicians.

As I can only assume that most of our population in the U.S. understand and accept the  sincerity of the accusers of all ages and positions; however, there are still those skeptical. These aren’t simply men who fail to comprehend the truthfulness of the victims statements-despite their age, there are women too that make similar comments. As in,

Why now? (Why not when the incident of abuse or assault occurred did these women or then girls did not come forward to the authorities?)

Here we go again. (These women are simply buying attention from the media.)

Why does it matter now? (As in I believe these women, however fail to understand the purpose of their accusations now as they proved themselves successful or beneficiaries in their careers.)

These are simply allegations, no charges have been made and the media/social media is not a courtroom. (We do not know for sure if these situations are truthful or not. In any case we have a court and rule of law that should properly investigate, judge then rule on these incidences. A trial by media causing the lost of jobs is unjustified.)

With these common statements and questions by both, some, men and women is an admission to the overall question, really a statement: Why now?

Any ‘now’ or moment in time takes courage to speak of. As I have had women confess to me about their brother, their pastor, father, uncle, neighbor, friend or teacher. The time is irrelevant, what matter is the act and how it deeply silences the victim. As one woman confessed to me that her brother had molested her for years, but she did not want to alarm her dad. Her dad, a single father providing financial necessities as he worked all hours of the day and often leaving the children home alone. However, she said after some years when she finally confessed what had happened to her, her father believed her. Her brother then later confessed, confessed of other children he had silenced and sought help.

I witnessed poetry spoken by women who were raped by their fathers and how she still deals with the emotional aspect. Still she is haunted by memories. A few came forward right after the act, others had come forward years later. The point again not being about time it is about courage. And in stating ‘courage’ is not to belittle the people that have faced abuse of some kind, yet have not come forward. You know this isn’t about comparison of who has the guts to say something its simply that it takes courage to do so.

In asking that question, too, is a form of silencing. As I remember in my studies about accusations of rape and assault in high school, I remember a statement made by either a teacher or by the textbook. It was somewhere along the lines of how our society become especially protective of men as women began to come forward about their assault, abuse and the like. Yes some were proven to be false, as our media reporting on these claims have found a couple to be false. However it shouldn’t negate the truthfulness of all other women, but it does some times. So we, as in our society, automatically assume the innocence of the man before the woman because of the need to protect, the need to silence from harm of knowing. Why now? Well the victims are not only breaking the silence of the act, they have to break the silence placed by our society.

For example, a male is victim of sexual harassment by women. The first question by the immature is, well is he gay, a homosexual? Why would a man reject attention from a woman? I mean that is desired in a heterosexual male, regardless of age. However it is not. And to deny the unwanted advances of a woman is no indication of his sexuality, only his ownership of his body. However, the immature understands this point only if the male victim is sexually harassed by men. Therefore, he is free to speak without scrutiny, but the first question asked again is did the male victim evoke violence towards him? If not, again well is he gay? A way to shun men based on homophobia, a repulsion of feminism, is another form of silencing a victim. A silence placed by our society of how men are ‘suppose’ to act and react to such situations.

By this question, ‘Why now?’, the skeptics are admitting to the fault of the accused and as well admitting to their own encouragement of silencing the victims. Though without this desire to self reflect on their comments made is also admitting the need to silence harm from knowing.

 

 

Trump America

Around this time of the year of last year I was in great disbelief. Donald Trump was running to become president of the United States of America, to run as a Republican. My skepticism concerned his sincerity first, or perhaps his personality as a celebrity business man proved to be to much of a joke. This sentiment remained true for all others I spoke to whenever the subject arise. IS he a serious presidential candidate?

Well the people, meaning my rural hometown largely Christian and conservative loved him. As I live in the suburbs of Atlanta, certainly the middle class Christian and conservatives loved him and still do. As I move further to the mountains of my state I see the giant Trump flags and billboards raised proudly alongside crosses and confederate flags on private property. Certainly he is loved and my state by a large margin thought he was, still is, serious about the presidency. T America

Alright, then he is something new, something different and not bound by rules of etiquette as our country has witnessed in the past. I will honestly admit this is why I doubted his sincerity. But, he is our president now and more so this year I have become silent on the political debates and divide under his name. I wanted to read the reactions to his decisions, how he made decisions. I wanted to hear his reactions to common issues that divide and rebuild U.S. America’s trust and compassion for one another. You know, to sit back and to observe without further judgement or concern to how well he leads a country rather than a business.

That’s why he was a highly considered. I remember the chimes of conservatives demanding a business man, a man like themselves to finally become their voice. There they have it, a man given access to wealth through privileged means. He went on to turn a million dollars into the unnumbered fortune he owns now. A successful business man in the real estate industry and as well known for his show ‘The Apprentice’. However, he had stated that his presidency will not become about him and how well the government controls people. Instead, he promised a country ran by and for the citizens of the United States.

Today’s ceremony, however, has a very special meaning because today we are not merely transferring power from one administration to another or from one party to another, but we are transferring power from Washington, D.C., and giving it back to you, the people.

For too long, a small group in our nation’s capital has reaped the rewards of government while the people have bore the cost. Washington flourished, but the people did not share in its wealth. Politicians prospered but the jobs left and the factories closed.

The establishment protected itself, but not the citizens of our country. Their victories have not been your victories. Their triumphs have not been your triumphs. And while they celebrated in our nation’s capital, there was little to celebrate for struggling families all across our land.

That all changes starting right here and right now, because this moment is your moment.

It belongs to you.

2017, Inauguration Speech of President Donald J. Trump

This statement made by our current president has been my greatest concern. How is he addressing the concerns of citizens? How is building the transference of power from government and politicians to the citizens? In those two questions, how well is he ensuring a pathway to a government for and by the people?

A few of our major concerns include: Healthcare, Jobs, and Student Loans.

Healthcare: There are disagreements on how individuals should or should not pay. However, the goal on such a divided issue should be to find a compromise. And to that to listen to the people, and address accordingly. So far the goals to ‘Repeal and Replace Obamacare’ has been bent and focused to upend a previous administration proposal and act. Not at all about addressing which provisions of the Affordable Health Care Act worked well and what others should be revised or thrown out altogether. And as comments on conservative talk radio and additional comments made during the voting process of the new failed proposal, the people simply wish for a  bipartisan compromise.

Jobs: Our nation has become increasingly a service based economy. This means that jobs prospects for people are typically in the service industry as the manufacturing jobs are shipped over seas, outsourced. This change in the economy has affected those like my father that depended on manufacturing jobs for decades. As well this change in the economy as made it difficult for young males that were typically the workers of these industries. As it shows more young males are being out paced by young females in terms of education and job prospect. As well, an effect on towns and cities that depended on manufacturing as the center thriving point of their respective economies have declined.  Based on President Donald Trump’s tax reform, he aims to reduce corporate taxes as a means to allow manufacturers back into the States again. The “biggest winners will be the everyday American workers,” he added. In this quest include the conversation about wages as not only taxes are of major concern by corporations. There are regulations, wages, insurance, etc. that are major business concerns in providing U.S. citizens with viable jobs. Therefore, if President Trump aims to provide jobs for U.S. citizens, to bring back the old economy, he is admitting to benefit the businesses first before the people.

Student Loans: Our nation is shackled by an increasing debt of young college students and graduates who are to become the future of the middle class U.S. America. Already unable to find employment in their respective fields or even remotely similar, they rely heavily on the service industry. In doing so, jobs that pay barely minimum wage make for paying off thousands dollar amount in debt difficult and really impossible in the near future. For those that do pay struggle to spend money more freely and to purchase rather than to rent- or to live for free with relatives. So far the solutions are about reductions to payment based on income, though the concern still remains.

In order for power to be transferred, first the concerns of the people must be addressed, placed into action and met. It’s only been nearly a year and he has so far addressed these few major concerns at least. Therefore, based on his first year performance he has not achieved the approval rating high enough to indicate that the people are witnessing a pathway to change.

His supporters and voters certainly approve of him, congratulating him on achievements made. As it seems, most citizens are asking, what is there to congratulate him for exactly? His supporters will say that he his making a pathway with his proposals, and orders. On the contrary, he has not.

However, this is only nearly a year and in the next year to the fourth one may we better compare and judge for election time.

‘Where Is Everybody?’

The first episode of the 1950’s series The Twilight Zone answered my own fears and anticipation about loneliness.

Human beings, as animals, are social creatures that thrive in a group and just as well as a pair. We see this fact played out in most films and television shows about the ‘last man standing’ or some devastation that left a few or two alone in the world. The common expectation of quarreling; selfish behavior and aggression matched to detain the selfish individual played out. The individual cannot undermine the whole and the group requires all like minded individuals to survive. It’s a survival instinct.

 

Last Man
No one else to escape with in talking about nothing in particular.

 

And as well, if he is found to be alone, his sanity is lost as he finds no purpose for his voice. With most films, if he is alone and now silent, he’ll find some way to seek civilization.

Isolation. A sudden removal from all others and all subjects familiar. This is what defines loneliness. At times I dream of my own experience of it.

A plane trip gone wrong but I’ve lost my memory of what had happened. A small boat slightly moved by the waters. It’s abandoned and I do not remember my trip to this muddy, wooded lake side. But I take it, push it along, to jump in and to forget where I last left my life. I play these two scenarios over again in my mind when I find myself wrecked by emotions so overwhelmed. I do not imagine the trip to where I find the definition of loneliness. I think in that instance it’ll become a fear of death that’ll force me to survive. A sudden sense of grief as I leave those that do care for me wondering, abandoned. Other than that I never play out what is to be expected.

Somewhere I land on a beach side. I’m too frightened still to venture into the woods behind me, so I have just landed or its been a few months. About the only thing I know how to do is to fish, but to build a fire proves to be more difficult than what it seems. I suppose this is why fire, greatest success our human ancestors made left them too tired to venture into other technical success. Seriously thousands of years past by before the next latest invention.

Of course I’m suffering through the will of nature, finding discomfort. I’m uncomfortable in my surroundings, though I convince myself I could build something in the future. I’m inspired as that is all it takes for me to feel motivated in conquering my surroundings. I must convince myself that I could do something. Somehow take pride in my accomplishments as I learn through several trial and error scenarios to simply build means of conveniences (shelter, tools,  warmth). Still I find my discomfort met with frustration.

At some point, a replay of this sense of longing and wanting remains with me. This is where I end my dream. I was longing for the memories of places built by people. I wanted to witness again people going about their daily life. The news, the disagreements, the bitterness of people unable to properly vent their frustrations accordingly-I day dreamed about it all. A certain smell from home town. It’s the smell of factory farming, so not at all pleasant but nostalgia will have you missing the worst part of something.

The quiet of country living, something I miss that is reality not a dream. As a child and then a teenager I thought that I was alone there. Trapped in four walls I sent myself off to bed as I laid down to provide my own source of entertainment-that being my imagination. I would dream of someone like myself going off on a day dream that I am dreaming of now. A young girl outcaste, so she runs away. Though she finds herself moving back home again for what is familiar, really to seek a familiar face. She learns that she wants someone, a companion. I would lay for hours dreaming of another person’s anxiety about their society. The story dreams would keep me with comfort, but still depressing as I thought this was worse. Trapped in my own mind in the quiet of the country.

What is worse then, to fear loneliness. To fear being apart from all others, or to live so far and remote that you have no one to even share this dream with. That is the worst fear of mine. Perhaps the worst fear of everyone else, as it seems.

I witness middle aged women filling a void in their life by living superficial. Women addicted to materialism all to fill in the gaps of being alone, really. People forming relationships so quickly out of habit and out of fear. Then with the age of the internet and social media we have trolls that turn out to be just as much as a loser as they are bullying while seemingly anonymous. There is a void, a lack of happiness, a sense of loneliness. We fill it the best way we can, as I had done with the story dreams while living quietly. However, still, the worst feeling is to have no one and no sense that others where here with us.

Your God Has Funny Ways

Reflect on stories of those people whose works-art, writing, composition, and the like-are now highly regarded. Some have lived to witness this appreciation and to benefit financially from the success of their popularity. And so many of them choose to give back as a favor; gracious of their followers, fans and admirers. Then we are reminded by short articles of their beginning, some of them being humble. Those are the stories I’m finding that I need to read carefully now.


As I’ve confessed somewhere deep within a long emotional vent about my depressed state over some woman. I’ve revealed my struggles as a recent college graduate vaguely in my ‘About Me’ section. Yes I’m one of those recent college graduates that performed well academically and had received honors, though she declined recognition for most of them. One of those first generation college students from a small rural town limited in opportunities and access to proper tool preparation for college. As well, one of those children whose parents never graduated high school, so up until a certain point in middle school I was on my own academically. And to top off my personality, at first young and shy turned to understanding what introversion and a-socialization means. This all means that after a year of my college graduation date I have not been successful in finding a career. I lack the privilege. I lack properly networking skills to ‘know someone rather than to use what I know’. To top off my socialization skills are poor. So I’ve confessed somewhere along the way that I want to become a writer.

But this is more so difficult as I do work and I work and work for a living to afford to live first. I am independent in my mind and mindset, so I’ve sought ever opportunity to make more money above minimum wage start-off as I could. I began as a cashier my junior year in college. As I struggled to explain why I had yet to find a job before I turned 21 years old. I’m from a small rural town where opportunities are presented to the teacher’s children then everyone else with friends or family connection. So imagine my depressed state as I tried to find my first job for 6 years before I was hired by mistake in identity actually. However, I proved myself and became manager in less than three months. I’ve learned to say ‘no’, so I moved jobs to be a manager with more pay in such a short time. I’ve collected more financially sensible bills so I needed more raises, more reasons to work and work. So I’ve found two jobs that paid what one professional job would pay me if they were reasonable to my lack of experience.

I’m washing dishes, dumping grease at my second job. My primary job I’m listening to customer complaints, from those people who are suffering somewhere in their personal life. This isn’t for me, this is temporary, this is not the career pathway for me. However, I need the restaurants; I need the money to care for my bills and now for a roof over my head. I need this experience. I need something else.

I need a roof over my head. I confess somewhere that I am homeless. I was homeless, just moved into a home yesterday with what restaurant work can afford. Before I moved in, three days exact, I lost my second job.

I was laid off without proper warning, but at least they gave some courtesy and a gift card worth $25.

In such disbelief I began applying madly to jobs still with restaurants. Hopefully to find one struggling so they’ll accept me quickly. I shot out 15 quick-apply applications in less than an hour as I worked my last hours of my second job. I went to my first job later that night to talk out my frustration with my work-place associates, since they know my situation. At some point, I managed a quiet crew as I cried my heart out throughout my shift. I mean I was working but I couldn’t stop choking tears, so I took over a crew position to block my face from customers.

My mom called me frequently to reassure me that ‘everything will be alright’. She told me, ‘God has a way of opening you up to something new, whether you believe in him or not.’ I’m respectful to her and her beliefs, I remain silent during the religious part. But in my mind I’m thinking, well your ‘God’ has a funny way of speaking. I’m forced out of a relationship and a home the beginning of this year. My car breaks down three days after that fact. I mean I managed to get a new car so I could travel to work and to find work. However, that meant I lost financial support from my father selfish and bitter. I have to pay my own bills. This meant homelessness at some point. I needed a new job or a job in addition to what I have so from February to July I applied to jobs shutting doors in my face due to lack of experience. Due to I just was hired at one job, so will she leave us so soon too? Then, your education is listed here, surely she doesn’t need us, she’ll leave soon. And so I told the one that finally hired me, to please disregard my education here. He asked why. I said no one will hire me, and I need this job. He hired me, in my excitement, but under false pretenses. I mean for this second job to tell me that they have not turned a profit since they opened in 2014, so they are closing this one and three others. When hired I was told that you were expanding.

You know it happens, but this is happening so frequently all taking place within a year. My true self is an opportunist so I will apply and talk like mad to get something, to get more money. My depressed self just nearing the edge of self-destructive thoughts. So I write instead to calm myself and to balance my thoughts. Writing is what I view myself doing some time in the future and so I write with this new free time to do.


I know I can become successful. I use the short burst of time I have to write all I’ve been thinking of since I was working those hours, so many stories and thoughts are left lingering on my mind.

Going back again I remember charts and slide shows of those now popular with humble beginnings. Some were homeless, restaurant workers, similar to myself. Some were depressed and nearing self destruction, similar to myself. I must think that I will be where I want to be, but life is as it is worded.

Creature Comfort 

Now and again I’ll have a song listening session where I play my favorites introduce to me through childhood. I’ll listen to the rhythm and blues as they suggest love but hint at something sexual. I didn’t know but still appreciated the flow and how the artist related best to the sense. Though I was too young to guess how and where exactly. 

Grow into teenagers I was left rejected, yet embraced by those outcasted. They were the skull crushing, black dyed hair with purple somewhere. Somewhere, but not as dramatic as their hair. Ripped sleeves covered their arms but I wasn’t like them. But I was intrigued one day by a grey CD player left on the lawn of our end of the year down time. I ask for to listen. She laughed a bit but said sure. And so I listened to something falling out and romance. I have to say that I was curious but I put it back to where I had seen it. 

Then one day I enter the dorms wanting to become lost again but I wasn’t feeling smooth talk like I used too. No, no I wasn’t feeling the rock I had asked to be introduced to anymore. No, no I had to open my mind to experiment more about myself. What do I want to listen to…

I plug into a song. At random I choose research over guessing. Here I have found the music that speaks to me-thoughts and emotions wrapped in one. The best way to describe the feelings I have-20 something year old angst wrapped and rhymes with drums and guitars electric to acoustic. I could say this one song is a rap verse but nothing at all like mainstream. This other sounds a bit country but more complexed with melancholy. And this one right here, I feel through my bones of this literal sense is right. I can dance. I can even cry to it. I can actually be lost on repeat. 

Creature Comfort 

And so what do they say? The girl hurts but so does he. Both are trapped in their own minds and want to be released. So they take to what is popular to express their needs-to be all like the rest crying for importance. Still, they hurt and can’t take it no more. Still, they hurt. 

I find myself wanting to dance to wails, screams, and cries for help. No matter how I’m feeling I’m craving raw emotion eloquently to uniquely expressed that kind of is…truth, actually. 

And so I play on repeat-sounds that resonate within me.

Quirk

Online dating has become a new way to stare at someone from across the bar, the room, the Mall, the way without actually speaking. We may appreciate the beauty but never to stop and say hello… You never know if the person staring back at you screams internally with all signals pointing ‘yes’. ‘Yes please speak to me, introduce yourself and be as awkward as you can be, so we may speak of this again when asked’. 

It’s become a pointless matter of ‘likes’. Perhaps on my end it’s a matter of ‘likes’ without a message. A kind indicator that they are intrigued, interested but never a message. A simple way to let you know that they are curious though not that interested, so I take it upon myself to message first. 

Thoughtful messages worded as questions to women that read but never reply. They are not interested for sure but as well hinting that I’m a terrible flirt. I’m too technical, too serious, too textbook and like a teacher asking you about something you’ve written but cannot explain. So I ask ‘why do you enjoy this subject, book or author?’ She most likely will not reply but if she does it’s along the lines of ‘oh I’ve mentioned something that I’ve forgotten’. Or sometimes ‘oh what are you talking about?’ And so the conversations end before they begin. 
Though there are few others that’ll happily message back until each one die off as if we had never seemed intrigued. I’m puzzled here. I had asked one person a question instead of guessing and assuming common disinterest. So I had asked her ‘Why do you seem less inclined to talk with me?’ 

Her answer summarized as: 

The way you asked the question. Why do you have to try so hard to ask or to say something. Like I can tell that you are intelligent but you don’t need to be that deep. And I come from a long day and the last thing I need to read is a message I have to break down to get what you want. When I do answer it’s not enough for you and sometimes I can’t respond really with what you’re giving me. So I thought to let the conservations die slowly. 

I’ll be honest to say my feelings were hurt. I took to deleting every word or link to who I am as a person. I left my profile blank with only a single picture and my gender and relationship preference listed. I became more sadden that once I had deleted everything about myself and what I wanted the ‘likes’ increased exponentially within 10 minutes. 

My feelings were hurt as this is a common criticism that has followed me from childhood. I’m speaking mere friendship seeking on the playground as I had no one but I couldn’t relate to the other children and they too couldn’t relate to me. As one girl came up to me and said ‘this is why no one likes you’ and throughout years ’til graduation day she never liked me. I’m confused; I didn’t understand what was the matter with me. And over time I realized by the questions I was asked from elementary school to high school that they assumed everything false. 

I’ve never thought highly of myself in terms of intelligence and manner of speaking. I speak and write a certain way but I didn’t know it was so different from the way others speak and write until I was told and asked. I understand you just fine regardless of your vernacular or broken English I understand you; therefore no need on my end to mock you.  I never actually thought anything more or less of you. How do I explain that when I meet a person my mind is free of judgement, entirely blank until you fill in my mind of who you are. I will speak to you as I speak to everyone-with clarity and without assumption. No I’m not trying hard to word my responses or questions as this manner of speaking is clear and concise to me. 

But all others read and hear are riddles. As my mom asked my brother and I ‘why do y’all talk in riddles?’ An air of quiet as I sat to think what did she mean… I lookto my brother to see if he was just as confused. A blank expression upon his face. I don’t know but what I say to you seems direct. What I ask seems like an indication that a conversation is wanted. The simple fact that I’m speaking to you, sharing my experience and the like is a way to produce a response for a conversation to flow naturally. However to you and most people this is an oddity. 

I’m a firm beleiver that I should be able to be myself as I relate to other people. But then I find that people like me best when I at least try to speak and behave as they do. A headache for sure as I have to actually think and try to be vague-in my mind over simplicity. To have short burst of phrases and one worded responses, or else to read a few sentences punctuated is equivalent to a boring chapter read in that one class yesterday.  Then I think it sad to read that a  few sentences is considered a chore by most people. 

Well then if how I express myself is not to your liking then most kindly I’m not for you. I’m coming to accept that I’m not for most people. 

As I go over previous relationships, as bitter memories as they are, they all told me the same. I deserve someone better or someone like myself. Someone more understanding and appreciative that this quirky woman would like to share the world and the night sky with her. So I am sadden, but I’ll wait.

I Wish I Had Not

Thought the world of you when my world was slowly becoming filled. Or to think that you would fulfill all that I have ever wanted, then needed, as a companion. 

I wish I had not pursued you in youthful anticipation of something everlasting. As you know-as you are a part of a question involving society, people, and the distrust of simply uttering the words ‘I love you too’. 

I wish that I could have canceled the meeting of our first date. You were smiling so brightly and intrigued. I for sure thought after all of our previous conversations that you knew something of me-wanted to hold me selfishly to yourself. On that day I thought of you curiously. On this page; these pages I’ve written in my journal actually, I think of how selfish I was to pursue a stranger simply infatuated, fascinated that someone like myself exist. And as I write I think how foolish I am to cry, and to cloud my mind with thoughts of you. As you go over the first date, now, with your girlfriend…with her not I. I sit to contemplate and rewind daily-not of your smiles and overly politiness that brought us together. Instead I think of bitter headeaches; eyes rolled so far back; eyes shifted in glance, away from my own eyes; sighs of frustrations of you telling me that who I am as a person is not what you wanted. And that the love you expressed to me is not what you meant, now. Here I think of the seconds measured in songs, mental raps and rants. I add an explanation to others inquiring about my heavy eyes and heart. I tell them it is you that I think of-and as I think to myself ‘I wish’. As she is a reminder to why my love is denied. So I write, and to think without end about how ‘I wish had not’ spent so much of my effort on you. 

To beg and to plead with you.

To stare into your face of apathy once you wanted no more. 

I see now that I’m triggered by every musical notes, melody to memories of you. 

As I wish I had not pursued you.