The Laundromat

I'm going to change the tempo up a bit here - seems like I've had a lot of heavy thoughts on my mind lately.  But I want to pose this challenge if you will to anyone who is willing to participate.  I've been proposing this question to the women in my life as a sort of research project for a new writing experience.

So here it is ladies... (and men if you want to join in and give me your perspective), the million dollar question - What do women want?

Sometimes we are afraid to admit what we really want because we don't want to be the only one. For some of us, being the only one is a scary thing.  We like to have a sense of belonging even if that means sacrificing who we really are inside.  So if you're up for the challenge, feel free to comment or message me. 

Looking forward to hearing from all of you!

xAmorette

On more than one occassion, I've found myself thinking, "Why me?".  Whether because of some unfortunate circumstance or catastrophic event that has come my way, I always find myself peeling away the proverbial onion layers looking for an answer. 

After surviving one tragedy after another, it's hard not to wonder "Why me?" because it's almost like we are being personally targetted.  But I've come to realize in my now 'wise' years, that sometimes we can't question certain situations.  The reasons have yet to unveil themselves to us.  Maybe, they'll never be revealed and we just have to deal with it.  Harsh to say, even harsher to feel. 

Losing a loved one becomes surreal - the pain, is almost unplaceable.  It's like nothing ever experienced before.  You cry, you are hysterical over the shock.  A flashback of your loved one plays over and over in your mind.  Brilliant flashes all in rose colored fashion.  Feeling as though a piece of you has died with them, you suddenly snap back, and there is a calm that washes over you.  You are fine.  Quiet and still.  Your mind is trying to reason with your body.  Every fiber of your being trembling beneath the exterior and suddenly, you are a wreck once more.  It's been more than a year now since I felt pain of loss.  The second birthday without him quickly approaching...The second anniversary of his passing right around the corner.  There are days when my thoughts will not leave him, and days when I feel as though I never knew him. 

It is a pain, an emptiness in my heart that will never be healed.  I've had to remind myself on more than one occassion that it was not me who died.  I am a survivor;  What doesn't kill me, only makes me stronger.  Now, I am stronger for him.

. 

There have been a few occassions where I have said to myself "You are now a woman"...The first time I came onto this revelation, I was twelve years old.  Suddenly I was experiencing what most women experience once a month... Hell and Torture.  I remember as a young girl, becoming very ill during this time.  Cramps, swelling, bloating, you get the picture.  But after a while, and my body adjusted to it's new state, these things did not bother me as much. 

Then there was the morning that I woke up and couldn't see my feet.  My chest had miraculously grown from PG to NC-17 overnight.  Again, I was still a child but I was starting to look like a woman and my first thought was "well what the hell do I do with these?"  Puberty was just awkward - at least it was awkward on the inside for me. 

By the time I got used to my body, in some capacity, I crossed another bridge in my life.  I had fallen in love for the first time and after some months of dating I decided it was time..and that thing called 'virginity' was a thing of the past.  At that moment I thought, "Now I am woman", even though I denied that I had given up my virginity for a couple of months that followed. I called it a "technical virginity" - because technically it was still there? I have no idea, I was 17, what did I know then.

I have crossed many bridges in my life, and as each year passes I feel as though I am wiser than I was the previous year.  I haven't felt the need to exclaim "I am a woman now" for a few years.  As a full fledged adult, working full time, doing my thing, owning my own things, I haven't felt that urge to make it apparent that I am woman, I know I am.  But recently, I have been contemplating uprooting my life, to some where new and exotic; a new phase of my life if you will, a fresh start.  I am thrilled to embark on this new journey, but at the same time, scared to death that I will miss the things that I have held near and dear to me.  Things that have become second nature to me. 

I feel that I have made so many strides in my life to get to where I am, to be the woman I have become and now, when I am presented with this opportunity, the little girl in me shows her face.  I know I need to just bite the bullet and do it.  Life is about taking risks and if things don't work out, it doesn't mean I'm stuck there forever. 

So here's to becoming a woman.  on her own.   

Dinner with the family; Always brings upon the proverbial knot in stomach syndrome.  I never know who is going to be the target tonight.  Will it be me?  What have I not done this time?  Have I been selfish, yet again?  Have I just not given a sh*t in general, yet again?  Have I not met her expectations, yet again?  Perhaps tonight I can dodge the bullets of my narcissistic mother.  You know the kind.  The one who is never satisfied with anyone or anything in her life because it's just not perfect enough.  The one who scrubs on hands and feet and still feels the need to say 'this house is filthy'.  The one who continues to complain that no one does anything for her, even when everyone bends backwards and then some, because we love her.  But, we can never love her enough.  We can never love her 'right'.  We can never love her the way she wants us to love her.  And she will never understand that we will never be the 'vision' she has created in her mind. 

Tonight, the daggers were pointed at me. Carved upon each blade, their name "Guilt", "Disappointment", "Envy".  Her constant berating and belittling with these little quips, her little daggers, are her only weapons.  When she feels that her self image is crumbling, she will turn towards the one who is doing well for themself, the one who doesn't seem to need her anymore, to bring them down and elevate herself.  See, you will always need her then.  If you think less of yourself, you will always need her to be there, to make everything better.  It's not munchhausen-like, because at first I thought that's what it was.  It's narcissism - at it's finest. 

It's called a border line mother, and the reason why I have not flown the coup yet, is because after so many years of believing I was completely dependent on her, I finally have opened my eyes and realized, that her 'love' for me has been damaging. Emotionally, what she does, is not fair.  I know that I can never change her.  I can only change my reaction to her. 

The person that gives birth to you, should not fill your head with anxieties and then turn around and make fun of you for it.  The person that gave life to you should not pretend to be your friend and then stab you in the back.  They should not tell you that they are proud of you yet expect more - the only reason why she does this is to keep me down, subservient by her side because she fears getting old and wants someone to take care of her.  She is still a young woman and already claims that in a couple of years, she will not be driving anymore because it's too stressful.  She's in her early 50's.  She should be jet-setting somewhere now that the kids are grown up.  Instead she is her elderly mother's caretaker and uses her as an excuse as to why she does not have a life.  Yet somehow that is also my fault, because I'm supposed to take her places or I'm supposed to do her personal shopping online or I have to think of her every waking second. 

This bird will soon be out - I love my mother, dearly, but I have to love myself more at this point. 

It's been quite a while since I last wrote and in that time, I've been bogged down with life in general but to put the icing on the cake, I've been without my computer for the last few days.  I couldn't believe how much I would miss it; I felt so disconnected from the world :).  But I'm currently using a loner and it's just as good, if not better than my mac.  I never thought I would ever feel that way, but it's true. 

bet

So...for now I am back again.. no more hiatus..Just waiting for my computer to feel better.

Oh oh oh...I don't know.  Just rambling in my head.  Today is one of those days.  Not that I'm not feeling inspired or moved or any of that.  Not that I'm procrastinating, though that is exactly what I am doing.  Day dreamer kind of day as I watched the sun set before my eyes and now I'm illuminated by the light of my laptop.  I've been perusing Vox, the past few days, reading up on the lives of others.  Sometimes I enjoy that more than putting my own feelings on the line; a sort of voyeur if you will, but I tend to live vicariously through others experiences.  It is a blessing and a curse if you ask me.  I also tend to lose myself in music - absorbing the raw emotion it emits.  

I paint myself in watercolors every day..

Film Noir

Kiss

The many and varied dimensions 

though I wish I had one that fit

better than the others - it is the bane of existence 

for the female of the species.  

It is the fine line between prudence and porn, 

sensual, sinful seductress and innocence.

You want it all, the virgin and the whore.

But what hat should I wear tonight, lover?

Am I the woman that makes you weak in the knees, 

not aware of my own skills apparently? 

Or that untouchable ethereal being?

Purified by time divided of your own will; 

Two months from now,

will you call again?

Like a prism to your glass

collecting varied colors within my core, I gave you

the spectrum of my heart, warm with the sun's radiance, 

I wish I could be more like you, the piece of glass in

of all your emotions, devoid, detached.. transparent.

shallow and singular..

to my many and varied dimensions.

passion..varied

5 comments

If I could - I would quit my job and write all day.  I would go to my favourite coffee shop and just observe the people, indulge in the finest sumatra blend and be consumed by the environment around me.  I would let the jazz become my heartbeat and the keystrokes my pulse;  I would lounge on the velveteen chairs and pretend I were Alice, falling down the rabbit hole of time.  I would rise early every day just to watch the sun's rays become more powerful, filling my existence with warmth and bask in the glow of the new day. I would not let something like consumerism or the all mighty dollar determine my life.