Saturday, February 22, 2014

Commute (Philadelphia)

My city.
Mine.

A first returning glimpse of Philly always triggers 
a small tickling of the happiness
known as contentment.

My evening commute transverses the river,
my crossing view that of bridge over bridge under trestle.
I ride along the sleepy banks of the Schuylkill
as stately white skinned sycamores
lean over the river to gaze at their own loveliness, mirrored in the escaping waters.

Sweet Briar reminds me
to pause and take notice.
I gaze those 300 Sweet feet
under an echoey overpass
connecting the Drive to Lansdowne and for a moment,
myself to my father.

The boat houses blink their snowy-eyed windows
as I smile at them from across the water,
now resplendent in reflection of the evening sky.

The sky, the sky!
It is the golden hour.
The sky is painted in Maxfield Parrish pinks and purples,
But it is the skyscrapers who are most magnificent
Ablush with the waning evening light.

I zoom past those autos parked on the on ramp for 95 North.
I am grateful to live in South Philly.
I am not leaving
the city to go home.
My home
is here
in my Philadelphia.

Triplet colonial spinster sisters have their heads huddled together,
no doubt gossiping about me as I motor past.
I'm glad they have hunkered down,
Growing old here,
Proud of their working-man roots.
Two young ostentatious bucks flank these sisters,
out of place but precisely tuned.

As I alight in Penn's Port,
I am greeted by my neighbors,
comrades in arms which we take up
In defense of this small town that calls itself
Philadelphia.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Women & Girls & Finding Happiness

When I read articles or watch trending feeds, they plant a shadowy seed in a dark corner of my brain.  Fields of shadowy seeds, yet to germinate span the horizons of my mind.  Enough seeds planted in the same field and eventually, the planting starts to germinate in that shadowy corner, growing slowly as the light only reaches it occasionally in sporatic flashes.  This is the best way I can describe how I think on events and topics.  Topics all intersect with one another - seeds from seemingly unconnected articles and conversations having been thrown in the same field.

Lately, it seems as if all these seeds have been sewn in a field dedicated to women's issues, but more specifically, young women in America of child-bearing age, say 20 - 35.

I get so frustrated by how media portrays us - young women - (especially commercials - have you seen those BMW commercials that air during Olympic Primetime?!) and annoyed at articles written by men or moms thinking they know what's up.

Here's the truth: moms and men don't know what it's like to be a young woman today.  If you are a man or a mom: You don't.  You are not one.

More importantly, all these messages we receive (men and women) from the moment we are in this world, create a lifetime of hurdles to jump in order to find what makes us happy.  You have to sift through all the things that you think should make you happy, I mean, that's what everyone tells me will make me happy, before you can even start to uncover what really will make you happy (this ties into my thoughts later on still growing and waiting on marriage).

Think on Disney Princess movies.  Growing up, you might have connected with Disney Princesses.  What's the message there?  One, that there is only one right person for you, he's a prince either in name or a diamond in the rough prince, who will fight evil and go through all extremes to be with you.  Sure, recent movies have somewhat flexed in their message, but it's still there.  Especially if you are in the 30 + crowd.

What are the expectations there for a partner?  We will "live happily ever after", he will sacrifice himself for you to give you everything you ever needed, he will always be strong and triumphant, he will forgive all of your flaws because he was instantly smitten with your beauty (hopefully you are beautiful, thin, and have great hair).  Oh, and be sure to get married or find your match when you are like, 16.  Cause, that's when it will happen.  I mean, maybe when you are 18 or 20, but after that you are just too old.

Huh.  Well, it turns out that in order to "live happily ever after" you have to work hard at it and both of you have to compromise.  And if you ask someone to sacrifice all of themselves, they end up with nothing of themselves.
As to your man being strong and triumphant always - it turns out it is better to rely on yourself.  Do your own research, learn to stand on your own feet.  That way between the two of you, you can make a good decision.  Relying on someone else to make all your decisions just leads to helplessness and spite (perhaps you know a mom who allowed her husband to make all of her decisions for her and you have seen this yourself **I'm not lumping all moms in this category! I'm just saying to look around and take note if there is one.).

AND, as to forgiving all your sins because you are beautiful, well, actually, that does work.  Kidding.  Hopefully, you find a partner who forgives you (and you forgive them) not because you are beautiful, but because you are worth it.  Because you are the kind of person worth forgiving.

As to age, well...I'm sure you've all heard of or read the Princeton Mom's article on being sure to use college to find a man to marry.  I've been thinking about the marriage-mart a lot over the years and it just all came back and slapped me in the face when I read that article.

I went to an all women's college, so whoops. 

But really.  Let me briefly respond to the idea that you must find a man in college:  1. Internet dating is forever. 2. How many of those who jumped into relationships young are divorced?  In my circles, many.  I had been in maybe 10 weddings before I was married, of those...let's see who is still married...two couples.  I've been to lots of other weddings where the couple is still together, but the greater message to me has been that an early marriage does not mean a happy one.  AND, that people are still changing and growing tremendously after college and folks often grow apart.  AND that not everyone is really ready for marriage at 25, but society tells us we should get married before we will look old in our pictures.

(Side note: I worked with a Chinese girl who told me once that after 25 you are "left over Christmas cake" - meaning that everyone loved Christmas cookies, cakes, sweets before and on Christmas, but once 26 hits, no one is interested. - Good grief!)

In our parents' generation, society helped us to see that women played 2nd fiddle to men (that's sarcasm, folks).  But today, women don't have to put their own wishes aside for a dude.  Do you want a career? (it's okay if the answer is no. it's also okay if the answer is yes!)  Not sure if you do or not want kids?  Oh, and you don't have to settle for the first guy you sleep with.  That doesn't make you a slut, that makes you practical.

As to wanting kids... There have been a lot of articles about women who don't want kids flying around.  You've read them, I'm sure.  That's great if you don't want kids.  You don't have to want kids.

BUT, it's also okay if you don't know.  OR, if you don't want kids and then you decide five years later that oh, you really DO want kids.  OR if you want kids want kids want kids (and if later you decide, 'what was I thinking! I don't want kids!', that's okay too).  You don't need to make up your mind now, you don't need to get married just because you might want to have kids.  You can decide later, and you can always adopt.  It's okay to change your mind.

Speaking of burning down the planet and getting back to one other important issue I want to touch on: appearance.  Women and girls and beauty and Disney and stories.  When was the last time you saw an overweight Disney Princess?  What message does that send?  Come to think of it, when was the last time you saw an overweight girl heroine (not woman, girl)?

I remember reading, "Fit is the new Skinny".  That's ridiculous.  Skinny is skinny.  Fit is fit.  They are not the same.  If you are physically fit, then that's amazing.  Don't belittle it by saying fit is the new skinny.  Just embrace fit as fit.  It's like someone saying Orange is the New Black (and meaning it in fashion).  It isn't.  Black is black is will always be black.

I'mma let you in on a not-so-secret.  I'm skinny.  It's genetic.  I have a sweet tooth that takes up my entire mouth and makes it hard for me to talk.  I'm also pretty.  Sorry, it's true.  But, there are still tons of things I would change about myself (that's the not-so-secret).  I consider myself to be fairly accepting of myself, but I still find I am extremely critical.  I'm never going to look like a Disney Princess.  First, I don't have the hair for it.  I have super shitty hair.  Secondly, I can't sing, and that's a big part of being a DP.  Also, I don't have that straight nose.  Seriously, though, it's like trying to be a Barbie Doll - physically impossible.

There's a great short TED talk by a super model who talks about how super models are the most self-conscious people on the planet.  That's what I'm talking about.

We live in a place were people are telling you that to be happy, you need to be skinny and beautiful, you need to find a man, you need to have kids, you need a big TV and fancy clothes.

I guess I think it's all bull.  I'm happier than I've ever been.  I do have a husband, but my happiness does not come from him (although, I'm happy to share my happy life with him).  My happiness comes from my self-fulfillment.  Truly.  I don't own a car, I don't have a fancy house, I can't buy lots of expensive clothing.

You want to be happy?  Be thankful.  Be honest with yourself.  Find your personal mission statement and use that as your North Star.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Love and Chocolate. Valentines for my Connections.

I often wonder about love.

The concept can be used to describe so many different emotions.

In Spanish, there is a 'te quiero' and a 'te amo' way to say 'I love you'.  One for family & friends and the other for your sweetheart.  So, two kinds of love.

I think about people I love and how prismic my connections are.  No one connection is alike another.

Connection.

Love is really about connection.

Sometimes when I'm around my parents, I try to hang onto the moment in my mind, in my heart.  I say to myself, Be more present than present.  I wish I lived closer, saw them more.  I miss my family all the time, but most when I am around them.  The contradiction of missing them while being in their presence is often present.

My love, my connection to my siblings is acute.  Focused and intense.  I miss my siblings, but it is different from missing my parents.  I don't miss them any less, but I don't have the sense that I'm grasping at shadows when I'm around them.  I only feel excited and happy.

In the past few months, I've had a few folks close to me who've needed emergency care.  There is no better way to confirm if you do or do not feel connected to a person then having a surprise health emergency.

Unaware, you are caught in a moment of honesty.  

People I should feel connected to, such as my grandfather, I do not.  Shocking, I know (not as shocking if you know me).  He is in a terrible state of health, and I hope that he does not suffer.  However, I don't feel at all connected to him.  I am curious at to my heritage, but not enough to get the story from him on tape.  I don't feel agitation or grief at the chance of his passing.  I feel empathy for a difficult life.  I feel anticipation.  Anticipation?  Anticipation.

I've found I can be very connected to people I haven't seen in a long time.  I was lucky to grow up with a small, tight knit neighborhood.  My two best friends lived about mile from me (opposite directions) and one was an only child (read: I got to do lots of things with her family - vacations, sleepovers, you name it).  Many of my fondest memories are of popcorn and Fawlty Towers or the hiss as our snow-coated gloves dropped ice chunks onto the wood-stove in the kitchen, drinking hot cocoa, and reliving our best runs down the graveyard hill (what? you didn't sled in a graveyard?).  Who had the best run? That near hit of the stone on the left just coming to the bump, but rolling off just in time, and on a good day, the air you could get over that same bump.
           People get busy, we drift into other parts of our lives.  I don't see them much.  But I was surprised at how strong my reaction was to hearing of a scare for one of them.

Sometimes a scare can be a blessing when it is only a scare.  You can remember your love for that person.  You can remember your connection.

Another extended family member had emergency surgery this week (surprise brain tumor).  Again I was struck by how immediate and strong my reaction was to the news.  I felt panic.  After the surgery, being with that person in recovery, I felt relief wash over me in great strong waves.  Imagine that famous Japanese painting.  You know the one.  It was like that.  I felt so grateful.  Grateful that this person was part of my history.  Grateful that I was able to share another moment with them.

Social Media is amazing.  People post all kinds of sh!t that you would never say to people you barely know.  Sometimes I read very mushy postings about significant others (some people post like this every day).  How lucky for them!  But, I'm not sure I'm wired that way.

My connection to my partner has washed over the beach of my being.  The tide coming in, barely noticeable as it gains inches.  The sea crashing and crashing against my safe shore, gaining ground so slowly as to put me at ease.  One day I looked up and realized I was standing knee deep in surf, the white foam swirling about my chicken legs, sticking to my sunscreened skin.

I often fear that I don't have the capacity for love.  I mean, "real" love.  Movie love.  Book love. Burning love.  Take over everything in your life love.

But that's not love.  Burning so bright comes with too much weight.  Too much responsibility on that love to be your everything.

Love is mosaic-ed of little moments and pieces.  Love is the small marionette strings that run from your left big toe to their right hand as they cleaned the blood from your broken bone over the bathroom sink.  Love is the string that runs from your aching knee to your left hand to the ice pack to their forehead as you laugh together about Robert Palmer in a recovery room.  Love is the string that runs from my slow smile to that moment this morning; I'm remembering the breeze through my skirt as I biked downhill clutching the small moments from the morning before work.

Love is in the lotion your hands drink after drying and cracking from doing the dishes.  Love is in the chill on your face as you shovel the steps, dig out the car.  Love is walking into a house after a long hard day and it smells delicious.  Dinner is just coming to the table.  You eat together and are reminded of how lucky you are.

You know that moment you have when chocolate first hits your taste buds and they tingle so softly?  Or after a spicy meal and your lips burn just enough to make your more aware of them?Like that.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Employment & Creativity

It must be amazing if you don't have to work ever.  Imagine having money to do your everyday things (rent, food, clothes) plus art supplies/house stuff with a little left over for a vacation each year and donating.

I recently read Junky (or Junkie depending on the edition) by Burroughs (excellent, I thought). Here was a guy who had an allowance which allowed him to either not work, work occasionally, or work to support his habit.  Even so, it was years before he got it together to publish Junky, sending installations to friends who helped him get it all together for publication.  Granted, he was not as...focused as he could have been, but it just goes to show how distracting life can be (and makes me feel slightly better about not having something 100% finished from my time off).

Now that I'm working again (more on that later), I see how life truly gets in the way.  I'm not sure if this is how it is for everyone (I expect so).  It's bloody hard to minimize distractions. 

Now that I'm working again, I also get mentally tired from learning, thinking, problem-solving all day (hopefully, work affords the opportunity to learn, think, and problem-solve too).  AND between getting ready, the commute, and my work day, there isn't much left time over (leaving all health issues aside for now...).  Dinner and a minute to chat with S and that's about it.  I'm trying to train myself to get up early to write, but it's only been one week and I'm still adjusting.

I did get up at 5 am today though on my own (yes!) and then I had a work from home day (yes!) so I also saved the getting ready and commuting times.  It was a good morning for writing.

BUT, I'm hopeful that once I adjust, I'll be more productive.  There were also 3 evening work events last week, so that was a factor too.

I've set myself some general goals and I'm hoping I can stay on track.  They are attainable, so I'm hopeful!

.................................

And now about going back to work...

All that time off...
(Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme...)
All my persnicketiness about which jobs I'd even apply to...
All the countless hours applying to those could-be-perfect openings...
All those terrrrrrrible interviews...

And now...
And now.

What do I think?
I think it's only the first week.
(too early to tell)

BUT

I'm pretty confident I'm gonna love working here.

The mission of ARTWELL is so closely aligned with my own personal goals and mission that I find just being there exciting.  The staff is amazing (I know it's only a week in, but seriously).  I hope I am there a long time and make a meaningful contribution to the organization and through ArtWell, my community.

And if you have to give up making art & writing all day, the best way to do it is to support the arts and better my community while working with great folks.  So, I'm alright with working for now. I've had my [f]unemployment time to be off and find something (else) I love (writing!), but now it's time to return to reality.  Alas!  I was not born a countess.