It has been said that it is bad luck for future relationships, to wear a ring on your left hand ring finger if you are unmarried.
A few months back I was doing some shopping, and a pretty $20 sterling silver solitaire ring caught my eye. "It's silly to buy something that so obviously looks like an engagement ring... it would cause embarrassment; give people the wrong idea" I thought. But then, "I'll buy it just for me, no harm..."
I never intended to wear it on my left hand. I never wear any rings on my left hand, and certainly not on my ring finger - but tonight, all I wanted to do was feel something there.
It feels strange on my left hand - heavy. Weighted with the wishes and expectations that I suppose accompany having a ring on that finger. My finger feels as if it's constricting - rejecting this foreign object.
I like to look at the way it sparkles when it catches the lamps light. A glimmer, like a secret whispered to a new friend. I just wanted to know what it was like. To see a ring on that finger; to feel it. In my reflection in the mirror, I move to sweep the hair from my face with my left hand - I let it linger there, just a while longer. A different woman meets my eye.
As I remove the ring, I wonder why it is I so desperately want to belong to someone. In the history of feminism, the bucking of the patriarchal society and bra burning, why does this one child of the 21st century want nothing more than a sparkly token on her left hand to signify to the world that she belongs to a man?
The moment is gone, a ring is removed - all that's left now is a red indent and the compulsion to itch a specific scratch.
Strange times.
SB xx
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
don't be so sure
I don't seem to have a lot to say at the moment. I feel a little like I'm in some self imposed exile from myself. But still, I wanted to share a little gem. Officially from 'The Verses' this song features the lovely Mr Dan Sultan. Two talented Aussies, reminding me, that at least for the moment music is safe*.
Damn it Dan Sultan, if dark hair and blue eyes aren't my ultimate weakness. And vintage cars...
SB xx
*I have an irrational fear that one day, the world is going to run out of music...
Damn it Dan Sultan, if dark hair and blue eyes aren't my ultimate weakness. And vintage cars...
SB xx
*I have an irrational fear that one day, the world is going to run out of music...
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Handyman, Candyman
There's a maintenance man at work - he's mid to late 40's and balding, and he's notorious for pursuing the young girls in my workplace. I've worked with some of the girls who have been the object of his affection, and seen him in action. I've never been on the receiving end however. This fact plays to my weakness and after three years of clearly not being good enough, I find myself asking "what's so wrong with me?"
What is so awful about me, that I can't grab the momentary attention of a bald, lanky, 'mature' man who spends 8 hours a day (this is not an exaggeration), dressed in khaki? I used to think he was the odd one - but then in this "one of these things does not belong here; one of these things is not the same" game - I think I may be the minority.
To the other extreme. I had a young fella approach my desk today - he shocked me a little when I looked up - I didn't expect to be met by a pair of piercing blue eyes and 'just the right amount' of stubble. He made me blush! Whoa I thought - I wish all the clientele looked like that. So, intrigued, I did some detective work and found that this man-child was born an entire decade after me. Jesus Christ and Mother Mary, he's barely legal and I'm fucking old!
Just my luck.
SB xx
What is so awful about me, that I can't grab the momentary attention of a bald, lanky, 'mature' man who spends 8 hours a day (this is not an exaggeration), dressed in khaki? I used to think he was the odd one - but then in this "one of these things does not belong here; one of these things is not the same" game - I think I may be the minority.
To the other extreme. I had a young fella approach my desk today - he shocked me a little when I looked up - I didn't expect to be met by a pair of piercing blue eyes and 'just the right amount' of stubble. He made me blush! Whoa I thought - I wish all the clientele looked like that. So, intrigued, I did some detective work and found that this man-child was born an entire decade after me. Jesus Christ and Mother Mary, he's barely legal and I'm fucking old!
Just my luck.
SB xx
Monday, November 22, 2010
Oh! Hark!
I think there is a secret that most people hold onto tightly. A secret about the way they feel; the way they might be coping - or not coping as it so often is. It doesn't matter how often we hear the stories, or how often we become the stories - you just never get 'it' until it's looking you in the face and staring you down.
What is it I'm eluding to? Depression, stress, distress, unhappiness. It's an epidemic - it sneaks up on you like an expert ninja and seems to spread like the common cold - but we are all still too afraid to call it out for what it is.
I don't pretend to be an expert. Honestly, sometimes I try to think back to my own dark days, and for whatever reason I don't seem to be able to easily recall the utter emptiness of it all. It's a scary place, and I don't ever want to visit again.
What's my point? I'm not sure. Someone at work is on stress leave at the moment, and no one is coming out and saying it. Everyone is afraid or ignorant or both - shit, even me. Unfortunately, just because I know what it looks like when it infiltrates my life - it doesn't mean I can see the cloud when it's hanging over someone elses head. I feel ashamed that I don't see these things, but at the same time, I recognise it's such an internal thing that it's hard to see unless you really look for it. Depression has many faces.
Perhaps part of these problems could be solved if we talked to one another - if we just felt like that was an option. I know that finding someone to talk to isn't always easy to do, but maybe sometimes we need to be more direct. If you feel like crap, if you don't know how to verbalise it - just say something. Write it, sing it, scream it, paint it, dance it, cry it - just get it out. Why is this so hard? Even for me.
The posting of this clip probably doesn't make much sense from the outside - but there's a lyric in there that I really identify with.... I fit quick in lonesome places... I think Lisa and I would make great friends. It's a song to me, that says it's ok to be whoever you are.
SB xx
What is it I'm eluding to? Depression, stress, distress, unhappiness. It's an epidemic - it sneaks up on you like an expert ninja and seems to spread like the common cold - but we are all still too afraid to call it out for what it is.
I don't pretend to be an expert. Honestly, sometimes I try to think back to my own dark days, and for whatever reason I don't seem to be able to easily recall the utter emptiness of it all. It's a scary place, and I don't ever want to visit again.
What's my point? I'm not sure. Someone at work is on stress leave at the moment, and no one is coming out and saying it. Everyone is afraid or ignorant or both - shit, even me. Unfortunately, just because I know what it looks like when it infiltrates my life - it doesn't mean I can see the cloud when it's hanging over someone elses head. I feel ashamed that I don't see these things, but at the same time, I recognise it's such an internal thing that it's hard to see unless you really look for it. Depression has many faces.
Perhaps part of these problems could be solved if we talked to one another - if we just felt like that was an option. I know that finding someone to talk to isn't always easy to do, but maybe sometimes we need to be more direct. If you feel like crap, if you don't know how to verbalise it - just say something. Write it, sing it, scream it, paint it, dance it, cry it - just get it out. Why is this so hard? Even for me.
The posting of this clip probably doesn't make much sense from the outside - but there's a lyric in there that I really identify with.... I fit quick in lonesome places... I think Lisa and I would make great friends. It's a song to me, that says it's ok to be whoever you are.
SB xx
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
dictionary discovery
Ok - so, I've just come home from seeing a very funny comedian. Forgive me for the lameness - but I stumbled upon a funny word in the dictionary just now...
Is that just the most ridiculous word you've heard all day? It actually refers to a type of engine. What a Wankel!
It's gold.
SB xx
Wankel
Is that just the most ridiculous word you've heard all day? It actually refers to a type of engine. What a Wankel!
It's gold.
SB xx
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The Rules
Outwit. Outlast. Outplay. So the TV show 'Survivor' might have coined this as its catchphrase - but these words collectively are a motto to live by.
So tonight, I'm crossing the road - I look to my right, there's no one coming - so I start to cross, patiently, kinda slowly - it's been a long day, and the shoes I'm wearing aren't great for express walking. Seemingly I was going too slow - I'm almost at the centre strip when a knob driving a Suzuki Swift (SPEW) with private number plates I might add (double SPEW) - beeps her tacky horn and hurls abuse at me? "Fucking Idiot" I believe is what I caught as she zoomed past me. It left me feeling a little idiotic and embarrassed. I still don't understand what happened - but mostly I became disappointed with the human race for having people like that a part of it. Outlast assault with a vehicle.
So then, I started to wonder when it became ok to treat others this way. When did it become acceptable to yell at total strangers who get in our way? I know I can be guilty of this - but at least I keep it in the 'internal environment' ... that is, my mind. In every moment we are passing judgement on those we encounter and seemingly some people think that being outrageously verbal about it is OK. Life is going to be hard work if we have to be on the defensive all the time. Outwit the dumb asses of the world, and just keep out of their way!
And work - that place is like an unattended restaurant kitchen at peak meal time. So many different pots being stirred, boiling over or boiling dry. The meat is overcooked and the veggies are soggy. So many chefs in the kitchen who have stopped following the recipe and are now trying to cook their own dishes. There are stories and rumours flying about the place - you have to think two steps ahead in the shoes of your 'enemy', then 10 steps ahead for yourself, and you must always be wary of people carrying knives! Outplay the office politics and be the last one standing.
It really is a jungle out there.
SB xx
So tonight, I'm crossing the road - I look to my right, there's no one coming - so I start to cross, patiently, kinda slowly - it's been a long day, and the shoes I'm wearing aren't great for express walking. Seemingly I was going too slow - I'm almost at the centre strip when a knob driving a Suzuki Swift (SPEW) with private number plates I might add (double SPEW) - beeps her tacky horn and hurls abuse at me? "Fucking Idiot" I believe is what I caught as she zoomed past me. It left me feeling a little idiotic and embarrassed. I still don't understand what happened - but mostly I became disappointed with the human race for having people like that a part of it. Outlast assault with a vehicle.
So then, I started to wonder when it became ok to treat others this way. When did it become acceptable to yell at total strangers who get in our way? I know I can be guilty of this - but at least I keep it in the 'internal environment' ... that is, my mind. In every moment we are passing judgement on those we encounter and seemingly some people think that being outrageously verbal about it is OK. Life is going to be hard work if we have to be on the defensive all the time. Outwit the dumb asses of the world, and just keep out of their way!
And work - that place is like an unattended restaurant kitchen at peak meal time. So many different pots being stirred, boiling over or boiling dry. The meat is overcooked and the veggies are soggy. So many chefs in the kitchen who have stopped following the recipe and are now trying to cook their own dishes. There are stories and rumours flying about the place - you have to think two steps ahead in the shoes of your 'enemy', then 10 steps ahead for yourself, and you must always be wary of people carrying knives! Outplay the office politics and be the last one standing.
It really is a jungle out there.
SB xx
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
A Finn Line
From the genius of Neil Finn, a lovely song called 'Distant Sun'. Tonight, I post both the lyrics, and a video - partly because I can but mostly because you must hear it.
Tell me all the things you would change
I don't pretend to know what you want
When you come around and spin my top
Time and again, time and again
No fire where I lit my spark
I am not afraid of the dark
Where your words devour my heart
And put me to shame, put me to shame
And your seven worlds collide
Whenever I am by your side
And dust from a distant sun
Will shower over everyone
You're still so young to travel so far
Old enough to know who you are
Wise enough to carry the scars
Without any blame, there's no one to blame
It's easy to forget what you learned
Waiting for the thrill to return
Feeling your desire burn
You're drawn to the flame...
SB xx
Monday, November 15, 2010
Mind your smalls
It's been a few days. I'm a little bit all over the place - but seemingly this is nothing new for me!
My overseas travel plans are becoming more concrete. I've had to sign some paperwork and put down a rather substantial deposit recently. It's getting really real - and I'm getting really quite nervous. But I know that I need to push through it. In essence, there is no good reason why I shouldn't go and many reasons why I should. Be strong StrangeBird!
The last few days I've been feeling very unattractive and uncomfortable in myself. I hate feeling this way. The doubting spreads like a bad weed and spoils every portion of my being. It's inescapable - like Indiana Jones running through the tunnel with that giant boulder chasing behind, my insecurities nip at my heels - always there, making the current situation dire. Today's 'incident' just kind of makes me feel even worse...
Today I was in a looking around in local shopping complex - thinking to myself that I really need to find some new underwear - because BONDS has basically fucked up the design of the undies I used to love. Anyway - of course, the underwear I want to have a look at, would be on an outer aisle - where there is a great fucking divide of open space, leading conveniently to the shop storeroom. I muster the courage, remind myself that I'm a big girl and go in for the look. Acutely aware of all the loitering staff, apparently with not much to do, I still go about my business, resolved to get a pair of the scarlet red lacy number that caught my eye. Around me, I can hear the toad-ish staff members failing to organise themselves - they are calling over someone named Trav, he's carting around a load of stock - he's just pulled up his trolley at the end of the aisle... my aisle, about 5 metres away from where I stand, knickers in hand. All the noise of the useless women trying to organise this one young man has caught my attention and I look up - just as he looks in my direction - then, a quick dodge of the eye and I see him squint his face and turn away. One of the toad-ish girls exclaims "What's wrong Trav, have you got something in your eye?" and he replies, quietly "Nah - that lady over there".... and then it dawns on me, I was the 'lady' in this equation. He feigned eye debris, in an attempt to preserve some of my... dignity?! I was caught, scarlet-red handed! I didn't know what to feel - I fled rather quickly, but I was left with the resounding feeling that he was trying to be polite - which is kind of a rare occurrence in this day and age. Now, what has this experience taught me? - not to shop for underwear in Target! Oh, the shame!
I'm feeling very stressed. Thinking about money - money for Christmas, for my holiday, for the study leave I want to take but can't afford, for all the things I want, to feed my expensive taste and hollow dreams. I'm a sad little mess tonight.
SB xx
My overseas travel plans are becoming more concrete. I've had to sign some paperwork and put down a rather substantial deposit recently. It's getting really real - and I'm getting really quite nervous. But I know that I need to push through it. In essence, there is no good reason why I shouldn't go and many reasons why I should. Be strong StrangeBird!
The last few days I've been feeling very unattractive and uncomfortable in myself. I hate feeling this way. The doubting spreads like a bad weed and spoils every portion of my being. It's inescapable - like Indiana Jones running through the tunnel with that giant boulder chasing behind, my insecurities nip at my heels - always there, making the current situation dire. Today's 'incident' just kind of makes me feel even worse...
Today I was in a looking around in local shopping complex - thinking to myself that I really need to find some new underwear - because BONDS has basically fucked up the design of the undies I used to love. Anyway - of course, the underwear I want to have a look at, would be on an outer aisle - where there is a great fucking divide of open space, leading conveniently to the shop storeroom. I muster the courage, remind myself that I'm a big girl and go in for the look. Acutely aware of all the loitering staff, apparently with not much to do, I still go about my business, resolved to get a pair of the scarlet red lacy number that caught my eye. Around me, I can hear the toad-ish staff members failing to organise themselves - they are calling over someone named Trav, he's carting around a load of stock - he's just pulled up his trolley at the end of the aisle... my aisle, about 5 metres away from where I stand, knickers in hand. All the noise of the useless women trying to organise this one young man has caught my attention and I look up - just as he looks in my direction - then, a quick dodge of the eye and I see him squint his face and turn away. One of the toad-ish girls exclaims "What's wrong Trav, have you got something in your eye?" and he replies, quietly "Nah - that lady over there".... and then it dawns on me, I was the 'lady' in this equation. He feigned eye debris, in an attempt to preserve some of my... dignity?! I was caught, scarlet-red handed! I didn't know what to feel - I fled rather quickly, but I was left with the resounding feeling that he was trying to be polite - which is kind of a rare occurrence in this day and age. Now, what has this experience taught me? - not to shop for underwear in Target! Oh, the shame!
I'm feeling very stressed. Thinking about money - money for Christmas, for my holiday, for the study leave I want to take but can't afford, for all the things I want, to feed my expensive taste and hollow dreams. I'm a sad little mess tonight.
SB xx
Saturday, November 13, 2010
My phone's on vvvvvibrate
This little gem popped up in the ipod shuffle lottery, and it made me smile. From the glorious Mr Rufus Wainwright...
SB xx
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Casualties of War
At present, it seems that my existence is defined by a soundtrack of extended sighs and deep breathing. I can't catch up. I can't find relief. I'm in manual override and it's not sustainable. What is wrong with me?
Tonight I rested my head - just for a minute; I willed tears, praying for a physical release to break the emotional drought. I couldn't. Am I beyond sadness? Past frustration?
All I know is that there seems no ending to the shit I find myself in. As they say, it's just "the depth that varies."
John has completely left us all in the most awful position at work. It's complex and difficult to know why - but to say he's not playing with the team is putting it at its simplest. It would seem he has offered up the sanity of his co-workers in order to prove his point to the gods of management. ASSHOLE.
I'm so angry at him, and also at myself for being so fundamentally wrong in my judgement of him. That in my mind he was lovely and dependable; while in reality those two words couldn't be further from the truth. I. am. an. idiot. Foolish and gullible me.
This, that I feel right now, is a weariness that no amount of rest can cure. Something is going to have to break, and I pray to God that it's not me.
SB xx
Tonight I rested my head - just for a minute; I willed tears, praying for a physical release to break the emotional drought. I couldn't. Am I beyond sadness? Past frustration?
All I know is that there seems no ending to the shit I find myself in. As they say, it's just "the depth that varies."
John has completely left us all in the most awful position at work. It's complex and difficult to know why - but to say he's not playing with the team is putting it at its simplest. It would seem he has offered up the sanity of his co-workers in order to prove his point to the gods of management. ASSHOLE.
I'm so angry at him, and also at myself for being so fundamentally wrong in my judgement of him. That in my mind he was lovely and dependable; while in reality those two words couldn't be further from the truth. I. am. an. idiot. Foolish and gullible me.
This, that I feel right now, is a weariness that no amount of rest can cure. Something is going to have to break, and I pray to God that it's not me.
SB xx
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Fortune may favour the brave, but she makes a bitch of naivety
I am not going to be naive about what's going on. John would have me and my workmates think he needs us, to join his grand cause in an attempt to overthrow management's bad ways. He is not fully open in his intentions - is it because now he sees the disadvantages; because now it's affecting him? He's not being noble - he's not trying to make things better, and I doubt he'll even stay around to see through what he has started. He doesn't care about me or the team. All he cares about is looking like a big man - a bold man for his poison SpottyApple.
John is a poor fool. Poor in wisdom and seriously foolish in his motives.
I am not going to conform for all the sparkles in his green eyes and I will not be fortunes bitch!
SB xx
John is a poor fool. Poor in wisdom and seriously foolish in his motives.
I am not going to conform for all the sparkles in his green eyes and I will not be fortunes bitch!
SB xx
Saturday, November 6, 2010
my own kind of girl
My shuffling ipod this morning delivered me this little gem called 'Your own kind of girl' by Clare Bowditch. If I could post the audio somehow I would - it's a lovely song to hear.
Chocolate - you've got chocolate on your
mouth. Oh you long to be like the other
girls, but you're not gonna be like another
girl, "some other girl". You've been reading
magazines again -comparing your sweet body
to the bodies of natures longest ones,
smoothed out with airbrush guns.
You've been wondering when the answer is
gonna come. It's not gonna come, till you
realise, you are fine. You're more than
enough. The real world needs real girls to
love themselves enough.
...
Chocolate - you've got chocolate on your
mouth. Oh you long to be like the other
girls, but you weren't born to be "some
other girl". You're gonna be your own
kind of girl.
SB xx
Chocolate - you've got chocolate on your
mouth. Oh you long to be like the other
girls, but you're not gonna be like another
girl, "some other girl". You've been reading
magazines again -comparing your sweet body
to the bodies of natures longest ones,
smoothed out with airbrush guns.
You've been wondering when the answer is
gonna come. It's not gonna come, till you
realise, you are fine. You're more than
enough. The real world needs real girls to
love themselves enough.
...
Chocolate - you've got chocolate on your
mouth. Oh you long to be like the other
girls, but you weren't born to be "some
other girl". You're gonna be your own
kind of girl.
SB xx
Friday, November 5, 2010
I turn to shoe
Events of today have unfolded like the bad plot line of a cheap paperback. Work is an energy sucking place to be right now, there's so much shit hitting the fan that there is no where safe to stand to avoid the splatter. To make things worse, I think I'm being played like a fiddle by John.
But, in the spirit of reasons to live - I saw these shoes on a website the other day, and fell in love. It takes almost everything in me not to buy them. What I'd really like to do is buy them, and wear them fantastically while stepping on the toes of all those who treat me badly.
SB xx
But, in the spirit of reasons to live - I saw these shoes on a website the other day, and fell in love. It takes almost everything in me not to buy them. What I'd really like to do is buy them, and wear them fantastically while stepping on the toes of all those who treat me badly.
SB xxThursday, November 4, 2010
she's so hard
What is it that defines who I am?
- the way I look
- the things I do
- the things I don't do
- the people I know
- the people I don't know
- the way I treat people
- the way that people treat me
- my hopes/dreams/desires
- the things I own
The list is impossibly long and confusing. But of all the things listed... and not listed, do I really just equate to what I think about myself? If I do, I think that's a scary alternative.
Wise people say that "if you don't love yourself, how can you expect others to love you?" Yep - that's a real pearl of wisdom, and no doubt true... but what do you do if you don't 'like' yourself very much?
A feature on burnout I read recently asked "do you feel insignificant?" In my head - the answer was 'yes, sometimes' and then 'sometimes I think other people think I am insignificant'. Ouch.
So, really what is the answer? Ask myself enough rhetorical questions until I work myself back to the start? When does one find the time for personal reflection - I thought that's what dreams were about - letting your head sort out the tough stuff floating around in your subconscious. Come on subconscious - do your job for crying out loud!?
My whole life - I've been my biggest critic... saw myself in the reflection of other peoples eyes, because that version must be true. Perhaps this is the missing part of the equation; why things just don't fit for me - because I don't believe in myself enough to deliver the real me, or know when I'm really being me. See - it's so confusing. Getting to know myself, when I've been dodging that person for so long.
It's a tough act.
SB xx
(Oh, and while I'm being honest - I'm being quirky/cute/funny and I guess semi-flirty in emails to John lately, and for that I hate myself. I should have more respect for myself! Oh, the shame....gahhhhh! Somebody STOP me.)
- the way I look
- the things I do
- the things I don't do
- the people I know
- the people I don't know
- the way I treat people
- the way that people treat me
- my hopes/dreams/desires
- the things I own
The list is impossibly long and confusing. But of all the things listed... and not listed, do I really just equate to what I think about myself? If I do, I think that's a scary alternative.
Wise people say that "if you don't love yourself, how can you expect others to love you?" Yep - that's a real pearl of wisdom, and no doubt true... but what do you do if you don't 'like' yourself very much?
A feature on burnout I read recently asked "do you feel insignificant?" In my head - the answer was 'yes, sometimes' and then 'sometimes I think other people think I am insignificant'. Ouch.
So, really what is the answer? Ask myself enough rhetorical questions until I work myself back to the start? When does one find the time for personal reflection - I thought that's what dreams were about - letting your head sort out the tough stuff floating around in your subconscious. Come on subconscious - do your job for crying out loud!?
My whole life - I've been my biggest critic... saw myself in the reflection of other peoples eyes, because that version must be true. Perhaps this is the missing part of the equation; why things just don't fit for me - because I don't believe in myself enough to deliver the real me, or know when I'm really being me. See - it's so confusing. Getting to know myself, when I've been dodging that person for so long.
It's a tough act.
SB xx
(Oh, and while I'm being honest - I'm being quirky/cute/funny and I guess semi-flirty in emails to John lately, and for that I hate myself. I should have more respect for myself! Oh, the shame....gahhhhh! Somebody STOP me.)
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
you can take the girl out of repression, but you can't take repression out of the girl
I was in a workshop recently, during which at one point the subject of 'sexuality' became relevant. Not 'sexuality' in terms of gender and preferred sexual desires - but 'sexuality' in it's broader sense. And, I came to realise at that moment, that I really didn't know much about it at all - a fact which kind of scares me... but one that is not altogether surprising.
At one point we were challenged to grab a partner, and discuss with them our 'sexuality'. I had nothing, didn't know where to start - didn't even know how to fake it - I had no point of reference, no pearls of greatness to regurgitate from an outside source - zip. Realising, after some blank stares and red faces, that the facilitator really just wanted us to experience the awkwardness that can arise from the subject, I sighed in relief and tucked my chair into the desk, sat up tall and waited attentively for this lady to tell me what I should know.
During the partner theatrics, an amusing thought crossed my mind - I imagined myself standing up in the room and announcing "hello, my name is StrangeBird, and I suffer from unrequited love." Sometimes I think there'd be great relief in owning up to those feelings. But then, there's my familiar friend repression. It brought back memories of another equally confusing time.
When I was 'coming of age'... getting the boobs, the period... you know. Well, my Mum sat me down and tried to reassure me in her matter of fact kind of way that it was exciting to be becoming a woman. Congratulations she declared - I didn't feel like congratulations was in order.. as far as I could see, there was no real benefit to bleeding on schedule or being ridiculed by my class mates for having to wear a bra. Nothing cool about that at all... still fail to see the complete awesomeness of it all.
To accompany my small chat of avoidance, my Mum one day presented me with the stock-standard puberty book of the day - I can't even remember the title now, but it was something like 'So now what?... or 'What to expect?' When she gave me the book - she gave me strict instructions only to read the girl bits - and to help me avoid the naughty boy bits, she pegged the pages shut she didn't want me to read. Yep - that's right, I said pegged... I suppose I should've been grateful she didn't glue them - but then the shame of slipping away unseen with a large book on puberty covered in masses of pegs clipped to it, just wouldn't have been matched. So, by the end of the brief chat, not only was I scared, but also ashamed. I ran off with the book - immediately hid it behind my desk, whereupon some many days later I would brush off the dust and have a look. From memory I think I may have maneuvered some pages in such a way that I took a peek at the boy bits... but I still felt dirty for doing so.
Remembering this made me realise this is probably part of the reason I wasn't able to comprehend 'sexuality' it all it's complexities. This was just one moment, out of my whole life where the people around me, sheltered me and also themselves from the discomfort of awkward subjects. I can see now that my 'issues' with men, sex, body probably seeded from moments like these.
I guess the question is now, how to fix it? An answer I suspect, that will be a long time in the making, and probably not to be found in the procrastinations of this blog.
SB xx
At one point we were challenged to grab a partner, and discuss with them our 'sexuality'. I had nothing, didn't know where to start - didn't even know how to fake it - I had no point of reference, no pearls of greatness to regurgitate from an outside source - zip. Realising, after some blank stares and red faces, that the facilitator really just wanted us to experience the awkwardness that can arise from the subject, I sighed in relief and tucked my chair into the desk, sat up tall and waited attentively for this lady to tell me what I should know.
During the partner theatrics, an amusing thought crossed my mind - I imagined myself standing up in the room and announcing "hello, my name is StrangeBird, and I suffer from unrequited love." Sometimes I think there'd be great relief in owning up to those feelings. But then, there's my familiar friend repression. It brought back memories of another equally confusing time.
When I was 'coming of age'... getting the boobs, the period... you know. Well, my Mum sat me down and tried to reassure me in her matter of fact kind of way that it was exciting to be becoming a woman. Congratulations she declared - I didn't feel like congratulations was in order.. as far as I could see, there was no real benefit to bleeding on schedule or being ridiculed by my class mates for having to wear a bra. Nothing cool about that at all... still fail to see the complete awesomeness of it all.
To accompany my small chat of avoidance, my Mum one day presented me with the stock-standard puberty book of the day - I can't even remember the title now, but it was something like 'So now what?... or 'What to expect?' When she gave me the book - she gave me strict instructions only to read the girl bits - and to help me avoid the naughty boy bits, she pegged the pages shut she didn't want me to read. Yep - that's right, I said pegged... I suppose I should've been grateful she didn't glue them - but then the shame of slipping away unseen with a large book on puberty covered in masses of pegs clipped to it, just wouldn't have been matched. So, by the end of the brief chat, not only was I scared, but also ashamed. I ran off with the book - immediately hid it behind my desk, whereupon some many days later I would brush off the dust and have a look. From memory I think I may have maneuvered some pages in such a way that I took a peek at the boy bits... but I still felt dirty for doing so.
Remembering this made me realise this is probably part of the reason I wasn't able to comprehend 'sexuality' it all it's complexities. This was just one moment, out of my whole life where the people around me, sheltered me and also themselves from the discomfort of awkward subjects. I can see now that my 'issues' with men, sex, body probably seeded from moments like these.
I guess the question is now, how to fix it? An answer I suspect, that will be a long time in the making, and probably not to be found in the procrastinations of this blog.
SB xx
words & things
I carry you with me wrapped up in my heart
We are the wonder that keeps the stars apart
The root of the root and the bud of the bud
The deepest of the deepest
The singing in the blood
We are the wonder that keeps the stars apart
The root of the root and the bud of the bud
The deepest of the deepest
The singing in the blood
- Paul Kelly
SB xx
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
there's no place like home
I escaped my life for three days. Ran away from StrangeBird antics and dramas, and went to the seaside with my family.
It was nice. It's been a really long time since we've had a proper family holiday. Mostly, I managed to forget about work - except for a couple of moments where my mind wandered to John, and wondered...
But now, slammed back into reality - I feel as if the weight of work tomorrow is bearing down on my tired, sunburned shoulders - and I am incapacitated by it's mere threat.
As the sea reminds me - you can't fight the flow of things.
SB xx
It was nice. It's been a really long time since we've had a proper family holiday. Mostly, I managed to forget about work - except for a couple of moments where my mind wandered to John, and wondered...
But now, slammed back into reality - I feel as if the weight of work tomorrow is bearing down on my tired, sunburned shoulders - and I am incapacitated by it's mere threat.
As the sea reminds me - you can't fight the flow of things.
SB xx
Monday, November 1, 2010
waiting to inhale-exhale-inhale
I wrote this some days ago - but never had a chance to post it. I think it's a good reference point for where my head has been at, so I decided to post it, even though the moment has passed.
I feel like I've forgotten to breathe. It used to be just at work I would feel this way - but now, the feeling follows me home like a stray dog. It doesn't matter what happens, I forever feel like I'm playing catch-up.
It's the same feeling I remember I used to get when I was a child, playing hide and seek. The same feeling you would get as the panic stricken "seeker" running aimlessly in circles trying to find somebody, anybody - and then for a split second, the idea that maybe everyone is playing a trick on you crosses your mind - am I being laughed at?
I feel like I'm being laughed at right now.
SB xx
I feel like I've forgotten to breathe. It used to be just at work I would feel this way - but now, the feeling follows me home like a stray dog. It doesn't matter what happens, I forever feel like I'm playing catch-up.
It's the same feeling I remember I used to get when I was a child, playing hide and seek. The same feeling you would get as the panic stricken "seeker" running aimlessly in circles trying to find somebody, anybody - and then for a split second, the idea that maybe everyone is playing a trick on you crosses your mind - am I being laughed at?
I feel like I'm being laughed at right now.
SB xx
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