I should be more careful who I talk about these days. Sometimes just recalling a person from my past will conjure them into my dreams...
Defending Dala's Store 9-29-10
My friend's imported gifts and clothing store was moved into a vacant gas station convenience store. I was desperately trying to load up the store. I was all alone with the doors wide open when a group of teens all dressed in black came parading in and quickly filled the place before I could close a door. They were not there to buy anything, they were just making a mess, and I hadn't yet set up the store register. Five of the teens, all girls, announced that they were there employed by Dala herself and I was supposed to train them. When I told them all that Dala just doesn't have the money to pay them, they all started to cry and one of them tried to kill herself by climbing into an ice machine. I pulled her out and pounded on her sides to get her to take a breath. Once she was well, I screamed at the top of my lungs for all the kids to get out. As I was about to lock the door, a UPS guy pushed his way in with an arm load of stuffed animals. "You get these for free, but only in Dala's name," he said, handing me the animals. But then he added: "Since you got these for free, I'm going to take one." I leapt at him, grabbing the animal -- a little black puppy -- and screamed, "THIS IS FOR DALA!" The guy backed off, calling me a cunt, and started to talk into a cell phone about how rude I was to him.
Ghosts of my Mother & Aunt 9-26-10
It started at the Hospital ER waiting room. My mother met me there and she told that she wasn't dead, that it was all a big mistake and how dare I assume she was gone! "I'm Latina now," she said, shaking her bootie, "my body's better than ever. I got a new ass!" I shook my head, rolled my eyes, embarassed. "But you're still my Mom," I said. Then she started to dance around, getting up on a table and shaking her everything. "But look at this ass!" She cried, "I can't be your mother with an ass like this one!"
I needed to escape but all the doors were locked. I spied a couple I once knew in college. They were wearing vivid orange and red Chinese brocade robes. I knocked on the glass door and waved at them to get their attention. They opened the door but wouldn't let me out. "I was just thinking that those brocades you're wearing are perfect for Fall!" I told them, unable to recall their names. Insulted that I couldn't remember, they began to leave. I begged them to help me out, but then they just disappeared. I felt trapped until I saw my Aunt Madge sitting down prim and proper, patiently waiting for me to notice her. "How am I supposed to leave?" I asked her. She just quietly nodded her head and smiled dumbly. She wore a bright red suit dress. She looked and acted like a doll. I had to shake some sense into her to get her to talk, but she refused to talk. I took her head in my hands and her face first got younger and then very, very old until she was nothing but a skeleton. When I took my hands away from her, she became a ghost -- a transparent flying woman. I took hold of her and we flew out of the hospital.
When we got to Division street, she deposited me into the street where I had to do battle with a gorey-looking green ghost man. Once I fought him and threw him into the sewer drain, I heard a woman's voice tell me that I was needed by an old woman trapped in a white house just down the block. I found the house -- a rickety tall place with a long staircase leading up to a porch decorated with dead and dying plants. The address read "no. 5551318" and on the mail box was the name "PERIWINKLE" and all along the steps leading up to the front door were signs advertising "FREE COOKIES AND TEA" and "OPEN HOUSE". But when I got to the top of the stairs, a host of demonic and goblin-like ghosts flew all around me, trying to scare me away, but I fought them and managed to turn the front door's knob. The door opened to a series of other doors. Door after door opened to another door into infinity.
I woke up as I was about to unlock the last door and was met with a thick gray curtain where beyond I saw the faint outline of a Victorian woman.
The Unconventional Convention 9-27-10
The church of my childhood was filled with people I didn't recognize but then I really wasn't at the church to pray or visit old friends. The church was serving as a place for a comic book convention. In the church I grew up in I wondered where my brother was, he was no where to be found. I needed to escape -- it went as it usually does whenever I'm at a convention -- I hit the restroom first and last to recover or hide. I rounded the corner and there he was -- Brandon. But he was not like I remembered. He is sad with tear streaked cheeks, almost appearing like a child, and looking at me imploringly. He is carrying an organ but all the keys are missing and it rattles out of tune. "It's from the '60's," he says, "but it's my burden." I offer to help but he refuses. He's got other instruments attached to his back and waist -- a whole orchestra. I ask him what he is up to. "Someday there will be harmony," he promises and he weeps as he trudges along. I start to step away from him, but then he puts down the organ. "Everything is discord," he sobbs and then he begins to kiss me like a dog -- lots of licking, sniffling, nose pushing. It is weird but I enjoy the attention and feel loved. I am more interested in the organ, however, and as I reach for it my old friend Nick shows up and stands in my way.
"You're not supposed to touch anything," Nick scolds me, and he takes my hand and begins to pet my arm. We start a conversation and I don't remember everything we said. I do remember him asking about my health and when I tell him that I am diabetic, I hear Brandon say, "I am, too." Next we are in front of a wall of old books. The church, the organ, the whole convention is gone. We are in an abandoned warehouse full of books. I begin to desperately collect books, picking up as many as I can carry. But Brandon has the biggest load. I drop my books to help him. He hands me a plastic baggy full of sudsy dish soap. "Just take this to my mother," he demands.
I walk outside into a winter landscape -- a downtown area congested with snow and vacant like a ghost town or a post apocolyptic city -- and begin my search for his mother. Instead I find my own mother and she's waiting for me in that old robin's eggshell blue Fleetwood she once drove to Missouri in. The license plate reads: ELATE09. "I'm sorry, Mom, I have something to do for an old friend," I tell her. She's disappointed and I could tell she was waiting for me a long while. I run away as she screams for me to get into the car. I soon come across the old yellow Volkswagen bug Brandon used to drive back in 1989. The woman with red hair in a big bear coat must be his mother. "You still falling for my son's shit?" She chides me. After I hand her the baggy, she spills its sticky, soapy contents all over my face. I am humiliated. I become lucid in the dream. I remember how I mentioned Brandon in my last blog post and I am disappointed with myself. I should've left well enough alone. From above me Nick and Brandon are hanging out of the abandoned book warehouse window and they are laughing at me. I become bloody murder but then they come out and apologize and that organ reappears.
I'm back inside the warehouse. All the keys to the organ are intact. The guys are rewarding me by handing me back all the books I wanted, could ever want! It's wonderful. I wake up not wanting to get out of bed.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Self Reflections
Myself. Reflected. Long hair, hazel eyes, drowsy days... in a daze. It's cold outside. I've been busy dreaming inside.
Deep plum hair is more brilliant plum red. Contrasted with my dark brown hair, it seems like I have streaks of lava running down from my head.
This is how I woke up from a nap today. I tightly french braid my hair every night and when I undo it once I wake up, it gets a little wavy... and wild.
I take a lot of self portraits -- not just with my digital camera, but I also draw and paint myself often. Reflecting upon myself... it may seem self absorbed or selfish to some, but for me it is a way of learning more about myself each day. And the way I see myself is important because how I see myself will reflect upon those who see me.
This photo was taken yesterday right after I had a panic attack. I've become too sensitive to my surroundings again. It is hard to get out of the house but I force myself to leave each day, even if it is only to take a fifteen minute walk over to the university to update my blog at the computer lab.
Shaken, blurry, looking back at myself uncertain, struggling to keep my chin up. I feel soft, small, but significant. I am conquering my fears. I am getting myself back.
Hugging a tree brings me back to strength. I don't care who sees me do this. I love the feel of the bark against my cheek. I stop shivering and shaking. I start to breathe deeply, not shallowly. The world slows down. The people all around me are nothing but scattered leaves on the ground. I'm inside myself again. I can live. I breathe without choking.
Deep plum hair is more brilliant plum red. Contrasted with my dark brown hair, it seems like I have streaks of lava running down from my head.
This is how I woke up from a nap today. I tightly french braid my hair every night and when I undo it once I wake up, it gets a little wavy... and wild.
I take a lot of self portraits -- not just with my digital camera, but I also draw and paint myself often. Reflecting upon myself... it may seem self absorbed or selfish to some, but for me it is a way of learning more about myself each day. And the way I see myself is important because how I see myself will reflect upon those who see me.
This photo was taken yesterday right after I had a panic attack. I've become too sensitive to my surroundings again. It is hard to get out of the house but I force myself to leave each day, even if it is only to take a fifteen minute walk over to the university to update my blog at the computer lab.
Shaken, blurry, looking back at myself uncertain, struggling to keep my chin up. I feel soft, small, but significant. I am conquering my fears. I am getting myself back.
Hugging a tree brings me back to strength. I don't care who sees me do this. I love the feel of the bark against my cheek. I stop shivering and shaking. I start to breathe deeply, not shallowly. The world slows down. The people all around me are nothing but scattered leaves on the ground. I'm inside myself again. I can live. I breathe without choking.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
A Self Interview
I invite you to get to know me and, in asking the questions I will answer, perhaps I will know myself better, too.
What did you see out the window you look out the most today?
As soon as I enter my living room to gaze out the window, my cat, Mr. Snuggles, jumps up on the ledge to beat me to the glass. He's never too much in my way as I look. Outside the clouds got thicker, night approaching kind of dark was growing, and the darker it became the brighter and more yellow-orange the light behind me got. Before I could see the reflection of the lamp in the window, I noticed a lone misquitoe struggling as it flew -- it would be one of the last to survive if it can live past the frost we will recieve late tonight. There has been a lot of activity outside my window. Chipmunks squeal and scatter when they notice me and the cat watching them. Lately large Flickers out number Robins -- I love the black crescents on their breasts and the red patches on their heads -- as they peck at the green-brown grass. Dead leaves in the color of yellows and reds are starting to fall and amass at my door. I enjoy watching them fly in the wind. But my last thoughts as I gazed out my window was "I really need to wash this window" (and yet I keep it dirty because I like the nose prints on it from the cat) and "I want to put up more Halloween clings on the glass" (yet I don't want them to be too campy) and "I hope my neighbor Portia brings in her plants tonight, else they are going to die in the frost."
What did you do with your arms today?
I held my cat, hugged my pillows and blankets, held a pencil and finished a couple new sketches, rubbed my elbows, grabbed my purse, and used them to balance myself over a tunnel so I could view some fish up close in a creek bed outside.
What has a child told you lately?
The last time a child spoke to me it was at the local video store. She was about four or five, pointed at me, and said out loud so everyone in the store could hear, "Momma! That lady over there is REALLY PRETTY!" I didn't know she was talking about me. I was very flattered when her mother looked at me and agreed. I told them thank you. Most of the time I get children telling me I'm fat in public. So now I must be doing something right with myself!
When did you last have a good time singing?
Who were you singing with or to who?
What did you sing?
I sing everyday! More so in private than in public. Mostly to my cat, the lovely Mr. Snuggles. I sang him the "nom, nom" song while I poured him some food. Later I plan on giving myself a "concert" in the shower! I usually sing Stevie Nicks and Lady Gaga songs. I wonder if the neighbors ever hear me? No matter. I love to sing. I think I should sing more often. I sing rather well... when I put some effort into it and am confident.
How do you make it through the bad times?
I tend to withdraw from people so I can have myself a good, long cry without interruption. At other times I crash into my bed and sleep. And when I don't sleep or cry in bed, I lay there and talk to myself. When I'm in public having a hard time, I try to lessen the pain and embarassment by focusing on things, people, places, and memories that I love.
When did you do something you wouldn't have done until then?
Why did you do it?
Are you still doing it?
Shockingly, the first time I learned how to ride a bike was when I was 32! I did it for the love of a man who was encouraging me to learn so I could accompany him cross country up north on Beaver Island. I also just wanted to show him I could do it because he seemed to be believing in me so much, I didn't want to let him down because, if I had failed to learn, I also would never hear the end of it. I learned to ride on a bike that was not built for me. I ended up developing blisters on my ass and aggravated my hemorroids to the point I couldn't walk or sit without a great amount of pain. The man I loved thought I was exaggerating the pain but since I wanted to still impress him I could overcome, I didn't DARE tell him why I was really in pain. He was only 21, attractive, spirited, and I feared easily grossing him out. I wanted him to see me as attractive as I saw him. Oh, the things we do for love, eh?
I no longer ride a bike because:
a) I don't own one
b) After suffering a few more injuries and sores, it hurt to ride too much
c) Bike riding now reminds me of the failed relationship
What do you do that makes you tired?
Do you like doing it?
Drawing. I don't like doing it, I LOVE IT but the activity wears out my fingers, wrists, and arms. Everything from the elbow down can ache to the point where all I can do is sleep and wait for the pain to cease. Even opening a soda bottle to holding a glass tumbler can cramp up my digits. I've had this problem for a long while and it prevents me from doing large, drawn out, major works of art I wish I could accomplish, like graphic novels. Now I concentrate on creating smaller projects. I slowly plan out my paintings and drawings now, often tracing over my own sketches to complete a composition. I use tracing paper like some artists use a lightbox. It takes me longer to finish my drawings now, but I continue to challenge myself, pushing my limits, dreaming of the day when I'll have large collections of my work polished for a show or publication. I don't do it for the fame or money, I do it out of love. If I didn't love it, I wouldn't put myself through all this pain.
Who do you miss? Where are they now?
I miss so many friends, past and present, but I would say the one I miss the most right now is Dianna. She is a great buddy to talk to, share a meal with, and watch movies and TV shows with. Whenever we get together we end up talking about our favorite celebrities as if we were on a first name basis with them! Together I'd imagine we'd make a great televised talk show. In fact being together -- we really put on a show! She's also the kind of friend I can say anything to and argue with and we stay close. We're also a bit like Beaches -- Valentina and Dianna, even though we live in different cities and lead different lives, we always get back together and take off where we last left off, as if we've never parted.
Dianna lives in Milwaukee, the city of my birth and my other "home" town. I'd love to visit her more often but just haven't got the money or nerve to enter the big little city again.
As I think about it more, I really miss Rachael, Damien, Jenn, Julie, and Greg, too. They are all my old Milwaukee friends -- the ones who witnessed me go through some heavy changes and lived to tell the tale. We helped each other get by. They are good people I wish to share with my new friends.
What is something you do daily that your friends and family don't know about?
I am a divination nut. Reading signs in nature and in people, constantly determining what is going on, trying to stay ahead, but mostly doing it just to stay sane. I am overly sensitive to everything. This makes me highly intuitive and yet I can be a total ditz, clumsily making my way in the world because I'm so strongly intuned to the invisible things I can forget to ground myself, keep myself in this world! Imagination and intuition go hand in hand, at war with my skeptical mind, too. I divine without even realizing I'm doing it now. While a friend is talking to me about something ordinary, I'm distracted by the birds flying over us, busy detecting the pattern of their flight and what it will mean. It's crazy, I know. I don't often share what I'm seeing because I want to continue to seem like I'm paying attention to what someone is saying to me, but it's just too easy for me to get swept away by the rest of the things in the world and their inner meanings.
Are you a nice person?
I'd like to think so. It depends upon my mood. I have the potential to be a very mean bitch, a dark side of myself I'm always fighting. I'll walk away from someone just to NOT be a bitch. I know how words can hurt. I endeavor to treat others as I would like to be treated, but some people, well... make that a very difficult thing to do. I'm always afraid I'm going to be mean. I have a poison tongue. I can cut you down and bite you if you push me too far. I'm not above speaking my mind and some people interpret that as being hurtful. I always feel sorry whenever something I've done or said has hurt someone and I always remember to apologize, that is, if there is an opportunity to say so. So, uh, yeah, I'm nice. I'm more loyal than nice. You can be mean. You can disagree with me and I won't hurt you. But that doesn't make me a push over.
What do you feel is missing in your life?
I'm a single woman. I haven't had a boyfriend, or any kind of bedroom romantic friend, for many years. I'm terrified of dating. I just want to meet someone, find out that we're the love of our lives, marry, and be done with it! But it doesn't work out that way, of course. There are times I look at myself and wonder why no one "has" me, but there are equal times when I look back at myself and not wonder. In order to have a romantic relationship I'd have to be with someone who is not only understanding, but very patient. I don't think I'm easy to live with. I like my independence too much. I don't know what it is truly like to be part of a couple! Falling in love is one thing, actually staying in love is another. I wish to not live all my days alone, but at age 39 I'm accepting myself more and wish not to be disturbed, yet then... I don't know! When I fall in love, I can get obsessive, too. I just haven't had the best of luck. Sometimes I'd rather just dream about love. It's really sad. It throws me into a deep depression. I know I'm attractive and can make a great girlfriend, but there's something inside me that keeps people at a distance.
What friend had the greatest impact on your life?
This is hard to answer. It involves naming a man I used to obsess over who didn't deserve my love, a man who was arrogant and a show-off, a man of artistc ambition and a social chameleon who, if you'd ask him, he'd brag to you that he was the reason why I got into comics. Wrong! I wanted to be a comic artist since grade school. Up through my twenties I was still a wide-eyed, hero-worshipping girl but I didn't have a lot of self esteem. All the guys gave me a hard time and yet I looked up to them. The reason why he impacted my life so hard was he disillusioned me. When I found out he was making fun of me behind my back, I got to see who he really was and I discovered I liked myself more. I had no more heroes to worship. All my heroes ended up becoming very drab and human, I saw them for who they were. The glitter was gone. I'm now convinced most, if not all, the writers and artists I admire are jerks. I prepare myself to meet assholes everywhere I go just so I can be surprised to find out they aren't! I go with the expectation that they will break my heart so my heart won't get broken when they treat me like a fool. Thank you, Brandon, for enlightening me. I now know who to look out for and who not to become. Sad, isn't it? But it's true.
Am I bitter? Not really. Just disappointed with the negative experiences I was unfortunate to have in the comic book industry. Or maybe I was fortunate. Brandon wasn't the only guy I knew who taught me a few things. I know enough now to just do what I love and say "fuck you" to all those who refuse to believe I don't have substance.
What family member had the greatest impact on your life?
My mother, of course. She taught me to be religious. Her intolerance taught me to be patient and open-minded. She filled my life with spirit, so I became spiritual. She broke away from Catholicism to find her own faith. I had the gall and independence to find my own way, too, but it was never in rejection of her. It didn't matter that we practiced different religions, what mattered was having a personal relationship with God. Thank you, Mom, for bringing me up in churches, for taking me along on missionary trips, and for showing me what it means to have true devotion.
What did you see out the window you look out the most today?
As soon as I enter my living room to gaze out the window, my cat, Mr. Snuggles, jumps up on the ledge to beat me to the glass. He's never too much in my way as I look. Outside the clouds got thicker, night approaching kind of dark was growing, and the darker it became the brighter and more yellow-orange the light behind me got. Before I could see the reflection of the lamp in the window, I noticed a lone misquitoe struggling as it flew -- it would be one of the last to survive if it can live past the frost we will recieve late tonight. There has been a lot of activity outside my window. Chipmunks squeal and scatter when they notice me and the cat watching them. Lately large Flickers out number Robins -- I love the black crescents on their breasts and the red patches on their heads -- as they peck at the green-brown grass. Dead leaves in the color of yellows and reds are starting to fall and amass at my door. I enjoy watching them fly in the wind. But my last thoughts as I gazed out my window was "I really need to wash this window" (and yet I keep it dirty because I like the nose prints on it from the cat) and "I want to put up more Halloween clings on the glass" (yet I don't want them to be too campy) and "I hope my neighbor Portia brings in her plants tonight, else they are going to die in the frost."
What did you do with your arms today?
I held my cat, hugged my pillows and blankets, held a pencil and finished a couple new sketches, rubbed my elbows, grabbed my purse, and used them to balance myself over a tunnel so I could view some fish up close in a creek bed outside.
What has a child told you lately?
The last time a child spoke to me it was at the local video store. She was about four or five, pointed at me, and said out loud so everyone in the store could hear, "Momma! That lady over there is REALLY PRETTY!" I didn't know she was talking about me. I was very flattered when her mother looked at me and agreed. I told them thank you. Most of the time I get children telling me I'm fat in public. So now I must be doing something right with myself!
When did you last have a good time singing?
Who were you singing with or to who?
What did you sing?
I sing everyday! More so in private than in public. Mostly to my cat, the lovely Mr. Snuggles. I sang him the "nom, nom" song while I poured him some food. Later I plan on giving myself a "concert" in the shower! I usually sing Stevie Nicks and Lady Gaga songs. I wonder if the neighbors ever hear me? No matter. I love to sing. I think I should sing more often. I sing rather well... when I put some effort into it and am confident.
How do you make it through the bad times?
I tend to withdraw from people so I can have myself a good, long cry without interruption. At other times I crash into my bed and sleep. And when I don't sleep or cry in bed, I lay there and talk to myself. When I'm in public having a hard time, I try to lessen the pain and embarassment by focusing on things, people, places, and memories that I love.
When did you do something you wouldn't have done until then?
Why did you do it?
Are you still doing it?
Shockingly, the first time I learned how to ride a bike was when I was 32! I did it for the love of a man who was encouraging me to learn so I could accompany him cross country up north on Beaver Island. I also just wanted to show him I could do it because he seemed to be believing in me so much, I didn't want to let him down because, if I had failed to learn, I also would never hear the end of it. I learned to ride on a bike that was not built for me. I ended up developing blisters on my ass and aggravated my hemorroids to the point I couldn't walk or sit without a great amount of pain. The man I loved thought I was exaggerating the pain but since I wanted to still impress him I could overcome, I didn't DARE tell him why I was really in pain. He was only 21, attractive, spirited, and I feared easily grossing him out. I wanted him to see me as attractive as I saw him. Oh, the things we do for love, eh?
I no longer ride a bike because:
a) I don't own one
b) After suffering a few more injuries and sores, it hurt to ride too much
c) Bike riding now reminds me of the failed relationship
What do you do that makes you tired?
Do you like doing it?
Drawing. I don't like doing it, I LOVE IT but the activity wears out my fingers, wrists, and arms. Everything from the elbow down can ache to the point where all I can do is sleep and wait for the pain to cease. Even opening a soda bottle to holding a glass tumbler can cramp up my digits. I've had this problem for a long while and it prevents me from doing large, drawn out, major works of art I wish I could accomplish, like graphic novels. Now I concentrate on creating smaller projects. I slowly plan out my paintings and drawings now, often tracing over my own sketches to complete a composition. I use tracing paper like some artists use a lightbox. It takes me longer to finish my drawings now, but I continue to challenge myself, pushing my limits, dreaming of the day when I'll have large collections of my work polished for a show or publication. I don't do it for the fame or money, I do it out of love. If I didn't love it, I wouldn't put myself through all this pain.
Who do you miss? Where are they now?
I miss so many friends, past and present, but I would say the one I miss the most right now is Dianna. She is a great buddy to talk to, share a meal with, and watch movies and TV shows with. Whenever we get together we end up talking about our favorite celebrities as if we were on a first name basis with them! Together I'd imagine we'd make a great televised talk show. In fact being together -- we really put on a show! She's also the kind of friend I can say anything to and argue with and we stay close. We're also a bit like Beaches -- Valentina and Dianna, even though we live in different cities and lead different lives, we always get back together and take off where we last left off, as if we've never parted.
Dianna lives in Milwaukee, the city of my birth and my other "home" town. I'd love to visit her more often but just haven't got the money or nerve to enter the big little city again.
As I think about it more, I really miss Rachael, Damien, Jenn, Julie, and Greg, too. They are all my old Milwaukee friends -- the ones who witnessed me go through some heavy changes and lived to tell the tale. We helped each other get by. They are good people I wish to share with my new friends.
What is something you do daily that your friends and family don't know about?
I am a divination nut. Reading signs in nature and in people, constantly determining what is going on, trying to stay ahead, but mostly doing it just to stay sane. I am overly sensitive to everything. This makes me highly intuitive and yet I can be a total ditz, clumsily making my way in the world because I'm so strongly intuned to the invisible things I can forget to ground myself, keep myself in this world! Imagination and intuition go hand in hand, at war with my skeptical mind, too. I divine without even realizing I'm doing it now. While a friend is talking to me about something ordinary, I'm distracted by the birds flying over us, busy detecting the pattern of their flight and what it will mean. It's crazy, I know. I don't often share what I'm seeing because I want to continue to seem like I'm paying attention to what someone is saying to me, but it's just too easy for me to get swept away by the rest of the things in the world and their inner meanings.
Are you a nice person?
I'd like to think so. It depends upon my mood. I have the potential to be a very mean bitch, a dark side of myself I'm always fighting. I'll walk away from someone just to NOT be a bitch. I know how words can hurt. I endeavor to treat others as I would like to be treated, but some people, well... make that a very difficult thing to do. I'm always afraid I'm going to be mean. I have a poison tongue. I can cut you down and bite you if you push me too far. I'm not above speaking my mind and some people interpret that as being hurtful. I always feel sorry whenever something I've done or said has hurt someone and I always remember to apologize, that is, if there is an opportunity to say so. So, uh, yeah, I'm nice. I'm more loyal than nice. You can be mean. You can disagree with me and I won't hurt you. But that doesn't make me a push over.
What do you feel is missing in your life?
I'm a single woman. I haven't had a boyfriend, or any kind of bedroom romantic friend, for many years. I'm terrified of dating. I just want to meet someone, find out that we're the love of our lives, marry, and be done with it! But it doesn't work out that way, of course. There are times I look at myself and wonder why no one "has" me, but there are equal times when I look back at myself and not wonder. In order to have a romantic relationship I'd have to be with someone who is not only understanding, but very patient. I don't think I'm easy to live with. I like my independence too much. I don't know what it is truly like to be part of a couple! Falling in love is one thing, actually staying in love is another. I wish to not live all my days alone, but at age 39 I'm accepting myself more and wish not to be disturbed, yet then... I don't know! When I fall in love, I can get obsessive, too. I just haven't had the best of luck. Sometimes I'd rather just dream about love. It's really sad. It throws me into a deep depression. I know I'm attractive and can make a great girlfriend, but there's something inside me that keeps people at a distance.
What friend had the greatest impact on your life?
This is hard to answer. It involves naming a man I used to obsess over who didn't deserve my love, a man who was arrogant and a show-off, a man of artistc ambition and a social chameleon who, if you'd ask him, he'd brag to you that he was the reason why I got into comics. Wrong! I wanted to be a comic artist since grade school. Up through my twenties I was still a wide-eyed, hero-worshipping girl but I didn't have a lot of self esteem. All the guys gave me a hard time and yet I looked up to them. The reason why he impacted my life so hard was he disillusioned me. When I found out he was making fun of me behind my back, I got to see who he really was and I discovered I liked myself more. I had no more heroes to worship. All my heroes ended up becoming very drab and human, I saw them for who they were. The glitter was gone. I'm now convinced most, if not all, the writers and artists I admire are jerks. I prepare myself to meet assholes everywhere I go just so I can be surprised to find out they aren't! I go with the expectation that they will break my heart so my heart won't get broken when they treat me like a fool. Thank you, Brandon, for enlightening me. I now know who to look out for and who not to become. Sad, isn't it? But it's true.
Am I bitter? Not really. Just disappointed with the negative experiences I was unfortunate to have in the comic book industry. Or maybe I was fortunate. Brandon wasn't the only guy I knew who taught me a few things. I know enough now to just do what I love and say "fuck you" to all those who refuse to believe I don't have substance.
What family member had the greatest impact on your life?
My mother, of course. She taught me to be religious. Her intolerance taught me to be patient and open-minded. She filled my life with spirit, so I became spiritual. She broke away from Catholicism to find her own faith. I had the gall and independence to find my own way, too, but it was never in rejection of her. It didn't matter that we practiced different religions, what mattered was having a personal relationship with God. Thank you, Mom, for bringing me up in churches, for taking me along on missionary trips, and for showing me what it means to have true devotion.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)