Wednesday, April 25, 2012

On Going Too Far.

You went too far. You messed me up. I had a groove, I had confidence. I felt good. But you? You went too far, you took something that wasn't yours, touched something that wasn't meant to be given to you. I hate that you do not see the lines that were crossed, the situation you put me into, and the facade we play to play it cool. You thought you could do what you do but why? You fucked up, dude. It's crazy how in a moment. Feeling my worth, just slipping away. One attempted gesture, at a time. 

I volunteered the other night, and the subject of sexual abuse came up. It's weird. For all that I went through, it was for the first time to put that word "abuse" as part of my vocabulary to tell my story. I never thought of it that way, never wanted to see it that way. And there it was. Honest and real. 

And my whole justification of it was, I've been in worst-er situations and that this is nothing in comparison to what I had felt when I was a child. This now as an adult, I play off as "no biggie" and I justify it for you that we do stupid things when under the influence. But. No. I'm old enough, smart enough, wise enough, know my worth enough to know that this shit is not cool. Why are we not compelled to not think of it as a 'big thing' because - until it happens to you - you don't know how it feels. This feeling of no control, the lack of ability to decide what is happening to you. Your body. Trust me, I know it is easy to belittle this, I want to belittle this. But now, I can't. Not anymore.
You're an ass. And I'm angry. You're not supposed to do that. You are my friend. A person I trusted. You went too far, crossed boundaries. How can I trust you?! Knowing you were willing to do what you did. You disgust me. I forgive you, because I think it's your stupidity, lack of foresight, lack of understanding the consequences of your choices that brought you here. Don't you dare do this to anyone again. Please understand this. Your attempts were not welcomed. You hurt me by doing this. You really did, and I pray that you never put someone in a situation like you did with me again. Ever. Respect the women that brought you in this world, the women as in your family. Respect them - those that you know, those that you don't. Because. They are someone's daugthers, someone's sisters, someone's best friend. You just DO NOT DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO without the consent of that other person. You hear me? Never. Again. 
Funny thing, my most recent posts have been so superficial. The irony. The quest of attention via aesthetic needs, yet that coveted attracting-attention can bring all this. Unwarranted attentiveness. I know this is sorta reaching, but lately I've not been taking care of my health. Not big things, no heavy drinking or drugs. Just not working out as much or eating junk food. I know, I know. Not a big deal. But part of me thinks it's me trying to sabotage how I look, so I won't get that attention I don't want. By gaining weight, making it seem "less sexy". It's stupid, I know. But really. I feel protected in it, almost. Yet I'm the most happiest, the best when I'm taking care of health. And for now, I don't know. I'm trying to resurrect this feeling of self-worth with ballet classes. 

This weekend, I get to re-perform my piece to VagMo, which is like visiting a good friend. That space that this show provides me is, amazing. I am the voice, for even a moment, of the women that shared similar stories. That show has meant so much to me and hate to see/let it go. But until the next medium of where I can express and be part of something bigger than myself, I have at least this. My own monologue, here to share with you.

Monday, April 16, 2012

On Being Naked.


This entry isn't about being physically naked. However, I was asked to pose nude for a photographer recently and hence, the inspiration of this title. Sorta weird, kind of embarrassed. He's a legit photographer from Brklyn but most likely, would put my family to shame if I did this. So possible no-go. I mean, definite no-go. Anyways.

I am constantly putting myself "emotionally" naked in front of people. People I know, people I don't know, people I may know but better know afterwards since they know way too much about me at that point. Constantly. Which leaves me semi-uncomfortable afterwards. Not because I regret the story in it of itself nor is it because I want the nakedness reciprocated. I don't give in order to receive. But it's more of, I am uncomfortable because - here I am, exposed and I wonder, is it enough? Is it good? Do you hate me/love me more after what I have told you

Like posing nude, you wonder. What is it that you like about my body? What is that you don't? What curves are your favorite, which moles do you dislike? What is it, about me that I can or can not change - that you enjoy? It's not perfect, yet you are pulled towards it, inspired by it. Why?

I realize that the exposing of myself leaves me inevitably vulnerable. And though I would like to think that I am a person of honesty and humility by doing so, vulnerability isn't necessarily those things. It's embarassing, difficult, and sometimes unfortunate. 

But because I can share these things with you, I believe that I am strong and not incarcerated by some shame that I felt when holding it in. Exposing it shows it's weakness. I'm allowing that story to be mobile, not hidden, open for all those to see. And sharing this with you, shouldn't take away from that experience. Your opinion should not matter. Almost irrelevant to my story, my self, and my life. 

And yet. I do. Fuck. I feel used, over-exposed. And not enough. Why? I am everything that I need to be, and I have much to be proud of. I'm here, standing after what I have gone through - much of which is shared in this blog - and I smile. Still and often. Should that not be enough? You have no idea what I have gone through. I'm not trying to compare notes but you just don't know how it is. To feel a parent's death, a fractured femur, or be molested. I would never want those things to happen to you or anyone. None of it is cool but because of them, I am the woman you see now. And that should be enough. More than. 

I end with this. When you have sex with someone for the first time, you are exposed to fresh eyes. Naked as hell. And you wonder, is it enough? Do you like what you see? I am who I am, and you better like it for the next 20 or more so minutes. Cuz we're kinda stuck. Jk. But what I'm trying to say - and I type this as I'm blushing away - there are things you can change and then there are things that you can not. And just like those experiences that sort of end up on your skin, the person that sees you "naked", whether deserving or not, is lucky to have. Because in the end of the day, it just shows you who you are. Uninhibited, comfortable, and cool.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

On Vanity.

There are far more important things in the world than what we see.

This is a rebuttal to the "On Aesthetics" title. Funny irony, my most read entry that I wrote is, "On How To be Sexy" It just reached it's 800 hits. Crazy, isn't it? And that's the thing. I had to read those words for myself today. We need to remind ourselves, outside of the media and even day to day conversations that we have with one another (yes, boys I'm talking to you) that sexiness, swagger, hotness - all that biz comes from the way we treat one another, what we do and not the aesthetics. Isn't talent sexy? Watching someone play an instrument or play a sport or perform in a play. Or, watching someone care for and love their family? Goodness, fathers holding the hands of their children are sexy as hell.

I know that I said that what we wear, how we do our hair and of course, our bodies and face blah blah blah. We are submerged in all types of media telling us what is sexy, what constitutes as "hot" but I encourage you to see beyond what's in the tube. I encourage you to stop labeling girls as that. Because the sad thing, we're listening. We equate our value to our appearance. Just how with men equate their value to their work, if not accomplished. There is a feeling of inadequacy, am I right? And I don't mean that it's only women than care for their appearance or that men are only concerned with their career, of course those concerns are not gender exclusive. Women are just as worried about their careers, men with looks.. I know you know what I mean but back to the ladies.

The worst is that we go to these extremes of maintaining some sort of appearance. Botox, ____ jobs, waxing our wohoos. The list is endless. We're cutting ourselves short. My person, the "who I am" is so much more cooler than my facial structure. Don't you want that from others? To see you as who you are. To see you as a person that provides affection, intelligent, for an array of talents? Isn't what we do every day, how we treat one another - more important than the label of our jeans or shirts or shoes?

And as for the person receiving that "attention" you wouldn't want someone that cares about how you parted your hair or decided to just wear jeans instead of that tight, tight black dress. Is it obvious that I still have issues on this? Again I am not fishing and am grateful for the face I have, but I want to be known for the heart I give than having an ass. Is that too much to ask? Someone told me the other day that if I tried to be "hot" that I'm selling myself out. I should be glad for who I am and accept that I'm just not going to be that girl. The hell. What does that mean - thank you? Okay, before this gets any more snippy I think I'm going to take a run and come back. Hopefully, refreshed, exhausted, and clear-headed.


Back. Realized there's more important things in life than appearances. And for those who are too lazy/too impatient to see sometimes beyond the aesthetics are just not worth it. Yes, I know that the previous entry was all about how aesthetics is so important but the reality is, so many other things are as well - equally and more so. Let's just say, I'd rather be with someone that can articulate their thoughts and can show their love to themselves and others anytime. It's should be about the size of their minds & hearts, not the size of their...

Yea, I think I'll be a lot happier believing/knowing that there is more to life than the things on my face and the shape of my body. Peace out, Vanity. (Updated 04/13/2012)

Saturday, April 7, 2012

On Death.

My friend's friend passed away at the shooting in Oakland this past week. Completely by coincidence, the gunshot was never intended for her. She was there at wrong time, wrong place. He was an evil person. The shooter, and I don't usually like to judge another person as "evil" per se but there was no good intention that came from his actions. No reason, none at all. How is that another person is able to choose when another person is to live or not? How do you kill someone point blank? How do you pull a trigger, hear the sound of that gunshot - and be okay, even functional afterwards? Knowing that you had injured another's life. How? What led you to the point of murder? It doesn't makes sense.

Does this man not know the the grief, the ramifications of his actions? Does anyone, when holding a gun knows the responsibility and power that comes with it? People are mourning because of you. Parents are childless, families are planning funerals, friends are grieving - all of which are trying to find something tangible to keep that memory of that person close. That person they loved. They can't see or smell or talk to the person they love, because of you. Fucker. You stole that from them. You are not entitled to make such a selfish choice. And yet, you did.  

I know this isn't the first time someone came on a campus or public grounds and just started shooting. But isn't that thought depressing? That in our crazy universe, public shootings have become a norm. Ridiculous. This passed week, there were also shootings in Brazil and France. This passed week. Call it whatever it is, me being naive. Not understanding that certain people just die - but here's the thing. I get that I swear I do. I have experienced unfortunately too many deaths at a very young, young age. But there was no justice, no honor  - only pain and hatred when those lives were lost this week. 

My grandfather died from a syringe. Do you remember the Angel of Death* - the nurse who would inject lethal poison to euthanize terminal patients? He killed many, many people. And the stuff he would inject these patients with had a certain half-life that was difficult to trace, meaning only within in a specific time period can it be found in the bodies. My grandfather was of these few people. They exhumed his body, performed who knows what on him, and found proof. Yes, he was gravely ill. And yes, I wonder if my grandfather requested it. But still.. Still

A life is entered in this world not by choice. And yes, we can argue that there is family planning and conscious (or not so conscious) acts of making babies. We ya'll know that after we 'do the deed' typically a baby, a life is produced. We can decide that, totally. But that moment of conception is not necessarily our choice. And so, death should be the same. No? Is it because with death, there is often pain. So, we should have the ability to choose when this is to happen? I'm layering two very separate causes of death. But is it one in the same? 

So, with that all said, now you see why I want to practice medicine. I want that same "power" that the man who had that gun had. With the obvious exception. I want to rebuttal against his evil acts with medical know-how. I want to be a master of the body, to be a genius in healing another. I want to preserve a life that would be defied the opportunity of a natural death. I want to fight against death caused by the hands of another. I want to preserve, sustain, enhance a life. I want others not to grieve but to enjoy the people they love, that much longer. I want to be the hands that allows people to be with their loves ones, that much longer. I'll do whatever I can, to do just that. 

Sunday, April 1, 2012

On Aesthetics.

We all judge by what we see. We pretend that the aesthetics don't matter but they do. Remember Blink, by Malcom Caldwell? In a fraction of a second, we can generate an opinion of some sort and for the most part, have it semi-appropriate to the conditions before us. (There is, of course, the other end of the spectrum were stereotypes exists. And yeah, we know where that can lead to - enough said). We judge, heck we love to judge. For better or for worst. 

Lately, I've been obsessing about how things "look" and appear. Call me vain but I know it's more than that for me. I do care for my appearance (who doesn't to some extent) yet despite my sensitivity towards this, it doesn't change my behavior to enhance anything in particular. I still leave my house with my hair wet, my make-up consists of eyeliner, lip balm and possible blush - depends if I'm drinking that evening or not, because if I am, no blush is needed - and my preference in clothes is second-hand, vintage pieces over any huge brand names. I think in part, it comes from my LA Cali upbringing, where brand names and looks were a big deal. LA, Hollywood - that hood can be really shallow. Don't get me wrong, I've bought that $80 sweater for the letters WESC on it - just because. Costs isn't the issue but rather, let's be honest. What we wear, our armor tells the world how to treat us. Because we treat things differently by what we see. There are always exceptions. But for the most part, if I wore jeans, back pack, and pony tail - I would be treated differently if I wore a skirt, shoulder bag and actually combed my hair. Trust me on this, this is all from personal experience. 

So then, back to the beauty issue or aesthetic predicament

What dictates hotness? Now, I'm not trying to be some "hot girlhere, god knows that really hasn't ever been my forte. I get it, I fit the cute box. There were only very few moments in my life where the word "hot" was being referred to me and I'm pretty sure it was more in the context of the temperature of my body than so much the actual shape of it. Hah so damn true.

If to get the attention of someone requires some kind of 'pleasing to the eye' factor - then what's a person got to do? There is of course that whole "personality thing"  that comes up but that doesn't seem to matter until the first word is spoken. So, then for everything leading before the first word is uttered, before that moment when personality matters, for every thing before that.. what's a girl gots to do? Okay, I'll place my disclaimer here now, let it be said that I am not fishing here. I know my strengths, I now what I can offer, and proud of those assets. No pun intended. 

My college roommate is a Victoria Secret Model and though we wouldn't admit to it openly, she's treated differently partly, okay not even partially, because of how she looks. Don't get me wrong, she is wonderful and I'm not saying that her looks exclude her from forming a personality. But for some, it does. They may have no personality or worst, a horrible personality and yet they get the coveted attention because of their appeasing facial structure? I know this argument isn't new, not even creative nor surprising. Just what do we do - as the people that judge and as the people that receive that judgment - what are we to do? 

... I realized I may need to stop hanging out with a bunch of dudes that objectify women. Maybe then I would not feel like this. Maybe.