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)

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. 

* http://articles.latimes.com/2001/jan/10/news/mn-10551

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 girl" here, 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. 

On Others-Love.

Promise, this is my 'last' entry on Love for awhile. I know I've hit my quota.. just bear with me on this last entry. The other possible title for this was, "On Two Kinds of People".

I spent way too much time trying to figure out what love is. Self love, value, etc. Yes, ad nauseum. I'd like to believe that the reason that I did so was because it was the month of February. A time of Love, VDay, and all that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff (Hova). The nice thing is that I figured out the answer to my riddle. From the voices that surround me, my family, my God. What is Self-Love. It is about awareness, acknowledgment, acceptance and anything else that seems to start with an "a". It is all those things and the ineffable. But the point of this entry that I'd like to focus now is, what is on the other end of the spectrum. The love for others. 

We are, as I see it and what I have been told, is made to love. We'd like to argue that we are also made to be loved but the only problem with that is that the latter is dependent on others. So what do you do? Continue on, as you were doing? What were you doing? Genuinely caring for others or sitting there, relishing in the idea that you are being loved by x, y, z people. Now, don't get me wrong, both things are good. To love and be loved are just glorious. They feel so good. And through our lives, we lie on different parts of this spectrum. Switching back and forth of giving and wanting adoration and attention. There are some, and at times it is our ownselves, that sit more towards one end than the other. And the problem is, the crux of the conflict is, when the person that loves to give gives to another that simply loves to receive. 

My aunt told me that there are two kinds of people in this world: those that offer their love and those that only want to receive love. But if love is an honest exchange, an equal transfer of one self to another. Wouldn't this ability to love serve its own purpose? That by loving others we in turn fulfill the need to be loved. This global symbiotic relationship. And yet, what would we do if the world was filled with only those that want to be loved. What happens then? Major fail. 

Now I'm not saying go whore out on the world and love everyone. The reality is, not everyone deserves you. Because. There are those that will extract every part of you, given the opportunity to do so, because they want that thing from you. Not you. But that something you can give them, that thing you offer them so willingly. Whether it is their ego stroked or a pat on their back. The hand is far more important to them, than the face of the person before them. So, be selective. Because when you decide to love another, as a friend - as an acquaintance - as a lover, it should be in its most genuine, authentic form. Without the need or expectation of something in return.

We have this heart, this emotional component, these tear ducts, the ability to have sex for joy, these arms to comfort one another. And yet we question if we are capable of love? Don't you get it? We are love. Created from it, inspired by it, downtrodden when it all goes to shit. So, if we are made to do this. To make action of this. Then, let's do it. We all want love, but let us do so in a form that is honest and enduring. And hope that by doing that, doing what is most natural to us, to love - that we in turn will be loved the way that we offer it. The Golden Rule. Freely, with joy and no need to fill an ego or a lonesome heart. 

So I end with this wish, like two dots connected by a line, that we as people construct a direct thread of compassion and sincerity, in the name of Love.

On Self-Love.

So my main conquest has been trying to figure out this little riddle of mine.

What is self-love?

Is it measured upon the number of people that love you? God no.

Is it vanity? In it's most crass form, yes it could be. Is it  something you can achieve, once it  is "reached" you're good? What does self-love entail? Is it the same for every one person? 

I want [this] so much because, I can't be pending on another's. To be loved is awesoume but never enough. I want to be self-sufficient, sustainable. Because what is more scary is this idea that another's love is pending your self-worth, especially after knowing that the decision another person makes is never, never under your control. God how scary is that. Love. 

So, to prevent this indelible self-destruction, we should build a fort where one can stand on his or her own two lovin' feet. That way, when ever shit hits the fan, you're still standing in shit. Wait, that didn't work out as well as I wanted it to. I mean, you are standing in shit but at least you are surrounded by this fortitude by your own two feet? Wow, still gross. Hmmm... 

Well, let's start from the beginning. How does one fall in love, in general? By getting to know them, by getting coffee with them, by sittin in silence with them while simultaneously feeling comfortable, with arguing and finding things out about them that may not be as pretty but yet worthy to be loved. So, first you get to know. Then, you tumble through a few arguments (to test resilience and durability) and then, accept that person through love. Make the commitment, active conscious commitment that you are enough. More than enough but good. Love in its purest, most intended form is commitment. So, self-love is commitment to you. It is this ongoing, every single day process. It's not like a trophy that once achieved is done but rather, this internal dialogue that is everlasting. Honest. Real. 

So it begins with dating yourself. Figuring out what yo want to do, what you like/dislike, the music you want in my ears, conversations you want to have. You know, doing the thing "you" want to do without the need of a plus one to hold your hand, so that you two are not alone. Don't get me wrong, companionship is a beautiful thing. Just make sure that companion is worthy of you, all of you.  Then, after dating (hopefully) yourself you fall  madly in love and treat you the way you would a person you had loved. The best part of this recipe is that by doing you, falling in love with you, others often follow suit. As a friend or a lover, the more sweet you make your honey, the more bees want a taste. 

So if it wasn't obvious before, its obvious now. I just ended a beautiful relationship of 3 years with a man I really loved. I was spoiled with support and great, great things. But for what it is, it just can't be now. And surprisingly very surprisingly I am doing well. Very well in fact, the other day I mentioned to someone that I could not imagine going back to the person I was then to the person I am now, even in spite of the heartbrokenness that came from it. I would not trade for the woman I came out of it. Ever. I am so happy, grateful. But I can't help but question even after all the good that came from this, why was I not worthy of his love? Fuck. I know my worth, I know I am delicious. But why this residual lack of self-love? 

Because. I thought to be worthy of love was measured by the love from others. Simple as that. So when someone treats you with less "love" you bust out your measuring stick and think less worthy. So then you proceed with meaningless dates, alcohol, and one night stands to fill this void. Not in that particular order and all hypothetical, of course :) The only thing I can do, only thing I'll ever be able to do, is love the me and the others the best way possible. And in exchange, with hope, that there will be people along the way that will match that love of mine with an equal, mutual, loving love. 

So what is worthy to remember through all this, is that the actions of another is not all about you but a decision that they made for themselves. The only thing you can do is respect the ending of a love with honor and acknowledging the loss is not you. Love fleeing was never love, because it never had the commitment to do so. And the beauty, the best, the secret to the best kind of love, self-love is that it is impermeable to alllllll that. Shit from the external world and people. Absolutely untouchable. Invincible. It is yours, all yours to spoil rotten. 

So to quote from Parks & Recreation, Treat Yo Self [gooooood] every day, every year! 

On Vaginas.

Original title to this post: "On VDay" or "On the Letter V"

Vagina. Valentines. Violence. Victory.

The word "Vagina" has came out of my mouth more than a normal person in the past couple weeks. Partly, to promote for the show I was this past weekend and partly because that word is actually part of my daily vocabulary. Aside from that, I had time to actually meditate on what that word means when asked by many what the show Vagina Monologues entails.

It's more to than just that word. Yes - vagina, cunt, coochie snorcher, pussy, vay jay jay, etc. - there are all synonyms for the female genital that we are all oh-so-familiar from both the male or female perspective. We know what it is. And the sort of funny-ness that comes from saying that word. But when describing to those about the show "No, it's not a vagina talking on the stage... No, it's not like those parodies you've seen ... It's sorta funny, but sorta not" For those who have seen it, I challenge you to describe what this show is. It's almost impossible to give the show its justice in 3-4 sentences. Imposible.

It is not this uber feministic, semi-butch show where we denounce all men and hail and praise the vagina on a pedestal. It is this empowerment, this re-claiming, this identity of multiple women and their story about their lives, their bodies, their relationships with men, people, institutions, stigmas and how they interpret those interactions with those people or objects. The best part of the show, I believe, is knowing that at any one point, there were thousands of women saying those same words, with a similar intent, with the same goal to work against violence (since proceeds of the show go to both local programs as well as the VDay movement) by saying just a few scripted words.

I have never acted before except for that one time again for VagMo my Senior year of my undergrad. When people say I performed well, I just think its just their nice way of saying that I am (at times) overly dramatic and that "luckily" I can use this dramatic personality of mine on a stage in a somewhat productive manner. But, seriously, what I think I do well is that it's not that I'm "acting" but I just try to embody the real stories of the women in each of these monologues and think, how would I feel, where would I be, what would I have done. How different would my life would be, my decisions, my relationships.

I was molested when I was a child. Yes, this is extremely unfortunate and actually one of the most terrible things to ever happen to me and I feel like I've gone through a lot as a child. This isn't a "bragging right" either, comparing scars and such. God no. But by exposing this, I want to say that, if it wasn't for this show - where there was a medium for me to just be able to speak - even if those words were not my own, were not written by my own hand, I still mirrored the very sentiment they held. I remember the first time I got to see the audience stand when asked if they were victims of sexual violence or knows someone that was, it took my breath away. A weight lifted from within. Knowing that I was not alone. Knowing that stupid shit happens to women that are just so unjust. And yet, and yet. I am here, and as for those who do know me, would say you could not see the injustice in me. Because. I was able to rise from, knowing that this unfortunately is not out of the norm, knowing that there are lives living on, moving on, flourishing. Life goes on, they move on. Partly because there is no other option but to do so. Yet there is this subtle resilience, translating to the stage, is a very remarkable thing.

So yes, the V - this word vagina or violated or violence (sexual or domestic) or vengeance or victory - all come from this shit. That is why I praise it so much, because it means more than just the 6 letters it is. It encompasses strength, stories, the actual lives of women that had to see the world through that hole. Now, do you see? It's all about the "Power to the V".

So help me celebrate today's VDay and be part of the world, the people that empower the V. Giving it the respect, the honor, the life it deserves. http://www.vday.org/about/long-term-vision So with today being Valentines-  the day for lovers, couples, hook-ups, and the alike. I want to wish everyone a very safe and joyous VDay. Consent is the key. V love.

On Gold.

The past two months have been a bitch. One hell of a bitch. Had the highest of my highs and the lowest of my lows. And, why?

Because I gave my value, my self-worth to someone, to anyone, to no one.. but myself. Where does that lead to? [Detroit, jk hah]. Where does that bring me to understand my worth by serving it to anyone else that does not know all of me other than myself. We see ourselves, each and every day, we spend the most time with ourselves. We share the most deepest secrets, share the best moments of laughter, with ourselves. Not any one person in our lives, no matter how much we love them or spend every minute of our days with them, will never ever (never ever?) get to know you better than yourself. No one. So then, why do we leave it to others to tell us who we are - what we would need to be - what our choices should represent - and more importantly, what our worth or value is to this world?

I gave it to him. To him. A person that could not understand me for the life of me. Who had this image, this passing thought of who he thought I was. He wanted me to be the "best person I can be" which in his eyes, meant to be a doctor. The dream I created and generated for my own self. But what is it, though he would never admit it, would never be enough for him. And why, why why why would that fucking matter. I am lame. Cool but so lame, sometimes. I wanted that for myself and it became a dream that I had to achieve to be "worthy" of love. Fuck that. I am aware this makes me look like a fool. But that is not to say, that I am pretty sure that ya'll have been here before. This sentiment. This feeling of low. Where your life was held in the hands of another - an institution, an admissions board, a family member or dear friend, a lover or crush. We all have put ourselves in a position, so vulnerable, and inevitably harmful to our most precious goods. 

So [I] don't care whether you give me pity, I don't want it but can see why you'd feel that towards me as I describe to you my past life. Nevertheless, I put it out there, this vulnerability because it took me forever to understand this and hopefully you can find value in my very few words: your self worth has nothing to do with ___. Ever. Because for some strange reason, what they think of you, how they think of you, where they see you as, and how they can benefit from you, your love, your attention matters... will always be biased, selfish, and un-focused on you. Only you know whatever is, can, and will be. 

For a person that you spend the most time with, the person you get to talk to the most, argue with, sleep with, every single day - is yourself. Get to know 'em and be damned surprised when yourself comes out in ways you would have ever imagined. The way you have dreamt yourself to be, known yourself to be - because of your ancestors, your legacy, and your self. Because in the end of the day, isn't that person matter the most? 

I end with this more positive, lighter note. When asked how much I was worth, my aunt said to me it was gold. "If I can wrap you in gold, I would. And yet even then you are far more worth than that. But you should know that for yourself and not because I told you." So there. Remember this for today. Not because I told you are but because you are. Golden.