Go back and Get It

I arrived in New York yesterday after a pretty amazing (and exhausting) trip home. 

I tend to feel more rejuvenated after Thanksgiving. There is something about being around my very small but energetic family that replaces the dread and doom feeling that usually persists the weeks leading up to the holiday. And while 2016 has been fucking terrible in some very extreme ways, I tend to always feel overwhelmed and melancholy before Thanksgiving. This year was no different.

There is an old African word Sanfoka which refers to this image of a strong bird with a long neck that it uses to reach an egg that is resting on it's backside. The term Sanfoka translates "to It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten". I saw the image of this proverb on a gravestone last spring while I was home for a wedding that never happened.

Charleston, much like New Orleans, is surrounded by graveyards and on one stone was the image of a bird with it's head turned around reaching for an egg. I was sort of transfixed by the bird and meaning behind it so much so that I want to eventually get a tattoo of it because I relate so much to the meaning. I often worry that I am too much of a malleable person. I change so quickly based on the situation that I understand that I come across hard to understand. So going home for me has always been this time where I can reflect on where I come from and retain some of the things I feel I've lost during my constant adaptations. I am humbled by my time home, it's like base for me: a place where I can rest and regroup and maybe sip some water before I head back out into the world.

And that is pretty much what I did for a whole week. My mom made my old bedroom up and I read books I haven't touched from college, scribbled down some story ideas, slept a lot and reflected on the girl who used to call that place her primary home because she wasn't sure how or if she could build a life outside of what she knew. It, along with hanging out with my nephew, drinking with my brother and bonding even more with my mom, was superb and rejuvenating. I was almost giddy with the thoughts of coming back because I want to continue being this boss ass adult that i've suddenly become. Life is so strange. 

Of course I am a person who constantly thinks about what's next. I am such a planner that it bugs me not to have goals to work towards. So while I was home I set goals. I want to volunteer, I want to write a novel, I want to travel, I want to meet someone and I think I want to own a home. The last one is the hardest but also on the top of my list of achievable feats. I love my town and I think I want to call it home. I know it seems impossible to be a single person trying to become a home owner...but why not. I mean obviously this isn't going to happen overnight but 2-3 years it could be a real possibility if I continue playing my cards right. 

Though I am not in the market at the moment, it hasn't stopped me from stalking a few places since my return. The gem in the photo is an actual house, in my actual town that is decently priced. I adore it or the idea of home ownership and I don't see why I can't continue making great things happen in my life. Sure the novel writing and meeting someone would be perks but if I could do this on my own, I would feel one step closer to....good. 

The future is sort of ambiguous right now. I am still anxious and nervous and often full of blues. But when I was home I realized how far I've actually come since leaving 8 years ago. I've surprised myself and am shocked by my tenacity. And because i'm not sure what's next in the universes master-plan for me I can start working on the small things. I can continue setting goals for the life that I want to live and lead and share with the world. 

Holiday Season

I guess i've started a mini tradition in my apartment. Before heading home for Thanksgiving I always decorated for Christmas. It's much easier to enjoy the week with my family and then come back a Christmas wonderland. December is a hard month for me, so I compensate by trying to make it as magical as possible. Decorating is the first step in this master plan. I spent all morning putting up the tree and swapping at all my fall decor for winter ones. I still have a crap-load of cleaning and packing to do, followed by some mindless errands to prepare for my week away but i'm excited to head home tomorrow. I could use the family time as a distraction from the impending pressure of December blues. 

Jumanji was his name.

Last night I grabbed dinner with Christina (momma to be) and another girl named Elise  (who worked with us at Le Sad Store) and I must say the girls night was much needed and appreciated reprieve from the last week of shell-shocked-ness.

Before the election my friend Christina invited me to her baby shower. I knew going was going to be impossible because of her closeness to Kat, who was also invited,  but I still wanted to show my support and congratulate her on this huge event in her life. Heather suggested that I invite her to dinner as a way of showing my support because going to the baby shower would be a huge mistake.

At this point in time, I don't believe me and Kat can attend the same outing and not "have it out".
I ghosted her (so to speak) and after 6 years of friendship she probably deserved better than that. But I didn't see any other way out of my backed corner, so I did what I always do when the pressure gets too much...I disappear. I recognize now that I could have ended our friendship more diplomatically but I was reminded of my drag out 'break up" with Sean. I was reminded of my own inability to let go of things easily: I cling and struggle with the edge until the tips are my fingers pulsate in pain.

So even though we have gone months in radio silences, I can't imagine she would be apt at seeing my face at Christina's baby shower and I wouldn't want things to get super awkward in front of our mutual friends who have no idea of the discord between us. So I decided to decline the baby shower invite but last week asked Christina (and Elise) if they wanted to grab dinner after work one night to catch up on things.

Last night was that night and the 3 of us meet at this small Peruvian restaurant  near my job to catch up and talk shit. Despite my closeness to both girls, I was nervous as crap about the dinner. The three of us have gone out to eat numerous times and each time has been exceptional. We are a trifecta of diversity and I often joke that I love meeting up with them the most because we can talk about race and politics and sex unfiltered. But I was worried nonetheless that too much time had passed between the last time we saw each other and that the dinner itself would be awkward.

Of course that was not the case. For starters Christina is having a freaking baby. She is nervous and excited and anxious. She let us touch her belly and joked that she's taken to calling the baby "jumanji" because she recently cried during the movie as her hormones are out of whack. Elise  (who is fabulous and smart and going to take over the world one day) recently got promoted at her job and is finishing up her bachelor's degree. She recently went through a shitty breakup and of course we listened intently as she replayed the dramatic story and her ex's awful ways. I of course, stuck to the basics. I talked about work and my desire to head back to school for a degree in interior design (that of course will be paid if I can land a job at the university again). I talked about my car and going home for the holidays but mainly my excitement over seeing them.

We of course talked politics and expressed absolute horror over the election and the next four years. We all voted but admitted that we didn't really know much about politics or how our country is governed. During the last 8 years we've sort of lived in a bubble of hope and optimism. We all didn't think we'd ever get the complete and utter opposite of Obama. Elise is trying to organize things on her college campus to encourage (more) people to get involved in their local and state government. We talked about the fact that only 51% of registered voters voted in this years election. 51% percent. She brought this up as I was lamenting at the fact that people voted for Biff. She reminded me that only 26% of our nation voted for him willingly. 26% voted for Clinton (who also ended up winning the popular vote) and 46% didn't vote at all. .

"You can't worry so much about converting the 26%. It's about reaching out to the people who voted for a third party, people who wrote in Harambe as a candidate and most of all the 46% who were unhappy with both options. Those people are more reachable and valuable at this time".

And holy effing shit! She's right isn't she. It was like a light switch went off in my head, especially since I've been mulling over how to empathize with individuals who voted for him because in my mind even if "you" voted for him because you think he will bring jobs back to America while also fighting terrorism....you are guilty of ignoring the other 95% of his racist, sexist rhetoric and it's unacceptable to me. un-fucking-acceptable. So, idk, there is some relief in accepting that I can extend my hand of solidarity to those 26% but I am most unified with the bigger majority of individuals who rejected his non-sense even if they didn't do anything to shut it down.

We ended the night on a promise to hang out together before "jumaji" is born. We hugged and assured each other that while we were "fucked" we are determined to play our parts to make things better. I offered, of course, to drive Christina home because well she's pregnant and I didn't mind dropping her off. On the way to her house she asked me what happened with Kat.She didn't want to bring it up in front of Elise but was curious because Kat told her she wasn't sure why I stopped talking to her.

I told myself before the dinner that I would not talk about the drama between Kat if it came up in conversation but Christina is sort of the most neutral person I know. She gives advice based on the situation: never taking side and I sort of respected that she waited until it was just the two of us to ask me. So I told her the truth without demeaning Kat. I told her I felt smothered and that our friendship did not have any boundaries. I told her that when I tried to establish boundaries Kat took it as a form of rejection and became super possessive. I told her that Kat wanted more from me than I could or was willing to offer. At the end of the day, I choose myself over our a friend who wanted me to only consider her needs and happiness before my own. 

I didn't expect to say all of this but she's the only mutual friend I've talked and I guess I still question whether ending our friendship was the right thing to do. Because honestly Kat made it seem like it would be a disastrous decision because I'd miss out on the awesomeness that is having a best friend  So needless to say I was taken aback when Christina said "Fuck her man and her super crazy ass" followed by "I mean, I love her but seriously that's on some single white female level shit. You have to do what's best for you and only you. I love you and as long as you are happy I'm with you all the way".

She's going to be an awesome mom. Just amazing.

The dinner was my last big social outing before I head home in a few days.The awful feeling of despair still persists but I feel invigorated to do good things and be a good person while enjoying my comfy chair in-between. I am still anxious and nervous about the future, i still think we have taken giant leaps back in the wrong direction but if somehow I can turn these fears and pain into something productive maybe that is the good that can come out of it.

Moments of Clarity

A week from now I will be on a plane to South Carolina for Thanksgiving break. Of course my boss was not happy when I asked him for 3 days off to accommodate the holiday. I think he may have literally sighed and sat back in his seat while mentally questioning why I would need to take any days off to see my family. It's not that my boss hates me (because he doesn't) but I think he hates to admit that I contribute a lot more to this company than he bargained for. Of course after a few minutes of deep sighing he said I could go home for the holidays but that I couldn't request anymore personal days which I am still going to do because I'm an adult.

I need this trip home more than ever. I have never been in a physical fight before but I imagine this feeling of defeat and shame must be what losing one feels like. I feel battered and ashamed. When I was in the 2nd grade, I got into a horrible accident that banged me up pretty well. I made the mistake of trying to roller blade down a super steep and bumpy hill. I tripped all sorts of awkwardly and slide down the hill face first.

The left side of my face looked like charred meat for half the summer. I don't remember the pain from the accident, I don't remember crying but I do remember the days I had to stay home while my mom tended to my face. She'd hold me in her lap while she applied cocoa butter to my skin re-assuring me that I would be okay and that this wasn't the end of the world.  I felt embarrassed by the accident and more embarrassed by my battered ugly skin. I could still go outside and play with my friends but I didn't want anyone to see me because I was most ashamed about falling and tripping and face sliding. I felt like an idiot and didn't want to interact with anyone until I was whole again. I did not like feeling battered.

I guess right now I feel battered more than anything else. I am not in pain but instead am bruised in  areas I didn't know could ache. I am not a person who does well with change at all, and I can't help but feel that this imminent change is a negative one. And I am not blaming this fear on my liberalism, I am not a butt hurt left winged person who didn't get her way. I am just in shock and disbelief that my values do not match up with millions of others, and because those values seem so black and white to me (don't be a racists, sexist, asshole)  I am pained by the ugliness and cruelty this past week.

I knew it existed but didn't know how deep the division was. I feel sorry for their rage and hatred but I don't know what I can do to change the narrative. I read a comment yesterday that sort of hit me over the head with clarity. We have a tendency of generalizing people based on who they voted for. They are clumped into this group of deplorable s that make up such a small minority of the millions who voted. But maybe if we understood why those individuals gravitated towards such a negative campaign we could begin to move forward. Because honestly it's those minds we have to broaden. It's those minds and attitudes we have to tap into: the individuals who are resistant to how much has changed so quickly in our country

What I've realized is that I can re-blog as many posts about unity and peace and togetherness as I want. I can keep writing journal entries about my fears and concerns and freak-outed-ness.I can still plan to stand with all the vulnerable communities out there nervous about acts of violence and cruelty towards them or fearful that their rights and ability to thrive in America will be suppressed.  I will continue doing all of those things but if my core message only reaches the audience of like minded individuals I have in my life the message will fall on empathetic ears but not the ears that need to hear and listen the most.

I think that's where I am at right now. I am sort of paralyzed with the realization that while I obviously empathize with everyone I want to and will help, I also understand that outreach is just that...reaching out and I can't really just do that with only like-minded folks who think and live like I do. They aren't the ones who need "convincing" which isn't really the best word but you know what I mean Of course this isn't going to be able to tackle especially as I continue to read countless stories where people are losing their goddamn minds and inciting fear towards the very groups that are fearful right now.

I have a lot to think about and research while I am home. My anxiety is in maximum overdrive these days and if I don't channel it correctly I'm afraid it will have too much of a negative effect on my psyche. I honestly think a week home will do me some good (it usually does). I I am excited about this, maybe the only thing I've actually been excited for in 7 days. I will get to see my nephew and cook dinner with my mom and play video games with my brother. I will be able to let the reality sink in and devise a game plan that will make me feel more productive and a part of something positive.

State of Emergency

Heather and her boyfriend are moving today and last weekend I agreed to help them (well her) build some Ikea furniture they recently acquired to accommodate the new space.

Well, actually I agreed to help during the Ikea trip I tagged along with because I will never pass up a trip to Ikea. Ever since I moved into my new studio, i've wanted a chair of some sort to fit in what can only be described as a yet-to-be made reading nook. The space is wide "enough" for a small table or a chair and because I spend most of my time at home laying/sitting around I wanted to turn it into a reading or writing nook.

I don't have disposable income these days thanks to my car but i figured this would be my last big purchase for a while and because getting a chair is the only thing I silently desired  it made sense to go ahead and buy the damn thing and worry about all the money it cost later.

Of course this was last Saturday. Last Saturday, I didn't expect the world (and myself) to feel like utter and complete poop. Last Saturday, I thought this minor expense was a good idea because the world would return to normal soon enough and I'd have this nice little chair as a consolation prize for the last 14 months of anxiety.

Of course, I was wrong, so very wrong and instead have spent the last few days rocking back and forth in this chair with what can only be described as depression, fear and nausea. My feelings of doom and unease are unshakable and I haven't been able to find one thing or person of comfort to help get me through this.  As a strongly empathetic person moments like this undue me and I've only expressed this level of dread and fear a few times in my life. The most recent being Marie's passing but even then it was different. I worried only about how I was going to move forward and survive, not necessarily how a whole country and it's inhabitants would.

Just last night I had a dream where I was being driven to some sort of concentration camp. I am in a car with a bunch of other people forced to leave their homes. Of course, we don't know our fates yet we just think we have been selected for this for involuntary relocation and do not question why or to where. They takes us four at a time in black town cars to this remote location outside of the city. As I am sitting in the car waiting to be escorted out, my cell phone begins to ring. The driver of the car says I can take the call but he will have to confiscate my phone afterwards.

I step out of the car and answer the phone, only of course to hear Sean's voice on the other end. I am annoyed that he has picked this moment to call me. I am annoyed that I am relieved for a second to hear his voice. But then he asks me why I've been away for so long, why have I made it impossible to reach me. He wants to know where I am now, not so he can come and see me, but because he wants to know finally where I have "escaped to". Any relief I felt is immediately erased by the accusatory tone of his voice. As if wherever I am, whatever shit I am in is all of my fault and he just wants to hear me admit that i've gotten to this bad place, with these bad people because I was too stubborn.

I let out the most frustrated sigh and whisper angrily that I loved him and that that  didn't matter then or now. I loved him, i repeat again as the driver of the car is now standing next to me ripping the phone out of my hand before he shoves me back in the car.

And then I wake up. I wake up.

I'm not a dream analyst but I can only surmise that my anxiety about life right now is influencing my dreams. And that fact that the last voice i spoke to was one that demeaned and de-valued me as a person must too mean something. But i'm too exhausted to even try to decipher it. What I will say is that this week has worn me out emotionally and mentally. I held "it" together Wednesday through Friday but collapsed into a despondent, helpless mess these last two days. I keep checking in with my mom and brother to make sure they are okay. I keep reading the horrible things happening to people across our country and I feel utterly helpless. I keep looking for a concrete, proactive way to help and get involved only to be met with more symbolic means to contribute.

There is this mom and pop auto shop across the street from my local supermarket that just erected a huge ass Biff/Malfoy sign followed by signs about not trusting left-winged liberals or the media. I couldn't even go about my buying groceries because I became physically ill. Instead I drove 30 minutes out of my way to the nearest grocery store and even then only ended up buying saltine crackers because it's the only thing I can keep down.

I am not doing well this weekend. I'm not. So when Heather texted me this morning wanting to know if I was still down for building Ikea furniture, I had to tell her the truth. That I struggled this morning to get out of bed, shower and feed myself. That at the moment, I am afraid to step outside of my house not because I fear for my own safety but because the world feels different and I am trying to adjust. I am a person who needs time to process things alone and right now is this moment.

I am not sure she understood any of this. As my only real friend left, I don't want to come across as selfish when I explicitly offered my assistance but as someone who often struggles to be a person throughout my normal day to day happenings, this weekend it feels impossible to fake it. I just want to stay home and watch BBC America and eat as many cookies as humanely possible. I want to stay safe and away in the only place that feels normal right now. I want to sit in my newly purchased rocking chair and re-energize and re-group for the days, weeks and months ahead.

Safety in Numbers

Moving forward I have to remind myself not to engage (or attempt to engage) in arguments on the intervwebs.

This is going to be hard because I am not going to lie, I have been very tempted to voice my oppositions these last 24 hours but I want to continue spreading a message of unity and safety (even though I've wanted to gut punch the universe).

Outside of Instagram and Facebook I have stayed away from the news (though I just received a text from my mom about the protests going on around the country). It's not that I want to be sad in ignorance but I am trying to come up with a plan to help "us" best move forward and the news distracts me from that message.

By "us" of course mean everyone. Not just tiny, plaid wearing, combat boot steeping self. I mean all of us.  But even this is hard to do when the message I want to push forward isn't on the same page with the anger, frustration and of course violence that is occurring at the moment. Or the silent, passive, acceptance to juxtapose the latter.

I had to hold myself back last night from responding to what will be the most frustrating aspect of this post-election shock: silence and passivity. Unless you are a racist, sexist, misogynist who actively voted for Biff because of the racist, sexist and misogynist campaign he ran...do not tell communities of color, or women, or lgbtq individuals, or immigrants or Muslims or environmentalists, or poor college students or whomever is freaked the fuck out right now to "accept" what has happened and be quiet".

There is nothing more infuriating then ignoring the concerns of people who have been targets of discrimination and bigotry before, during and after his campaign.  It's like watching your neighbor's house burn down and telling them to "be quiet"  as they are visibly distressed and in need of help. I am that neighbor right now. My house is burning to the ground and I am freaking the hell out. So if I am telling you that I am scared and in need of help, validate my fears and offer assistance. Do not silence me. 

Last night I made the mistake of surfing Facebook and came across an old co-woker who posted this to her page:

Seriously the election is over. Whether you agree with Trump or not, he is who won the election. I'm tired of the only thing I see or hear about is the election. I get it that a lot of people are pissed but...

I just want to see posts of puppies and food again...

                           Or holidays. It's 2 weeks til thanksgiving and like 6 til Christmas. That's just insane.

No. Just don't. Please don't. That is not what we need or should hear right now. I am glad there are people who live in a bubble where they some how feel they will not be affected by Biff's presidency but those people are a very very very small minority. They may go down in history as the only minority group that doesn't have to worry. But the rest of us, the rest of us are scared and despondent. The rest of us feel without hope. The rest of us are watching our backs awaiting something bad to happen. As a human being, please hear our screams and feel the warmth of our tears and empathize with us right now.

Do not tell us to focus on puppies and food and the holidays as to not ruin your privileged existence. Do not. That has, so far, been the only moment I have felt physically angry these last few days. I mean of course I have seen the posts about people dealing with sadist racist and sexist and xenophobic hate  since Tuesday. Of course I watched the video of children chanting "build that wall" to their Mexican classmate. Of course I viewed the image of college students adorning black-face on snap-chat with a confederate flag in the background.  I have seen it and I am appalled but not shocked.

What shocks me is that more people are not openly offering their assistance, patience, empathy and solidarity during this time. What shocks me is the silence. It is so silent everywhere I turn. And it's disheartening because I feel so small and tiny. I don't know at this moment how much support I am capable of providing.

The other day I reached out to some Facebook group and asked if they needed any volunteer help. You would think the word volunteer would suggest that I am willing to help out without getting paid. The response I got back was "We commend your ambition and desire to help but we are not actively hiring at the moment. Right now, you could try and help us get more likes on our page and we'll keep you in mind when an opportunity does arise".

Facebook likes? what the what.  I was willing to hand out pamphlets, lick envelopes, print copies! I don't want to recommend a page for other people to like. What good is that. How does that help the helpless. My response back wasn't so diplomatic but I was frustrated and tired and at a loss. I want to help but how? And what will be the most useful (and productive) form of assistance that I can offer.

Right now wearing a pin of solidarity and unity is my first step. I want to make sure that everyone who has been a target of Biff's rhetoric knows that they are not alone and that I am a person who will go out of her way to help. We have to reject the divisive language that got him elected and the best way to do this is to shut it down if we see it or hear it. I am most serious about this. I have yet to encounter a situation where I have heard or seen something but I am on the lookout for it and plan to reject and challenge it head on.

I also think (as proposed by my cosmic twin) that there needs to be designated safe zones/places that vehemently reject racism, sexism and discrimination and will protect or defend anyone who feels threatened or scared. I was proud as hell to see my local rock climbing gym send out a Facebook message designating themselves as a  safe place for all individuals. This inclusiveness and unity is the reminder we need that people will not tolerate intolerance. I can only also hope people themselves can also carry and spread this message.

If you see something or hear something do something.  Be there if your black or brown friend is afraid of walking home alone. Be there is your gay or Muslim or immigrant friend doesn't feel comfortable in their classroom or out in public.  Defend any women who experiences vulgar sexual advances by some prick who thinks his ownership of a dick allows him to behave like one. I understand the protesting and the disbelief that is going on right now but I'd hate us to lose focus. I'd also hate for us to forget that hundreds of senators and congressmen and local officials have our backs and can't sit by and watch bad things happen around us without saying and doing something. Our main focus should doing the same but on a small and more local scale.

I am going to spend most of the weekend trying to organize my thoughts and turn some of these things into concrete initiatives. I don't even know if my small attempts will make a difference to anyone but I will definitely try and keep trying. We owe it America to give Biff a chance to prove all of us wrong. We also owe it to America to hold him and everyone accountable if he slips up or fucks up. If he fucks up, I am allowed to call him on it. Don't silence me. Stand with me, be patient, listen and help me help us move forward together.

We All Gotta be Marty McFly Right Now

Two days and I am still a mess. An inconsolable, red-eyed, comfort eating mess. I got all of two hours of sleep yesterday and literally went to work in an outfit that could have passed for pj's. I had the thousand yard stare of someone who'd seen battle, i was sullen and despondent. There were occasional murmurs from my colleagues about the election where they expressed  the same sort of shock and disbelief but not really understanding the totality of America's decision. My manager even had to nerve to joke that if we would have all voted this wouldn't have happened (ignoring the fact that he didn't vote). I fumed but was too exhausted by my lack of sleep to say anything back.

Despite Tuesdays outcome,  I am freaking proud of madame president. She was articulate, knowledgeable  and a fucking defender for all of us who have felt silenced in this country. I watched every debate, cried during the DNC and was so behind her as my commander in chief. The fact that she won the popular vote proves that half of the country was with her and her message as well. Knowing this doesn't make what happened any easier to accept but it is a small comfort I will take and cradle until January.

I can't help but admit that I am relieved that there are a lot of friends and family members who are equally as distressed about Biff being the next president of my united states. See what i did there, I refuse to write his name on my blog space. I will never write his name here. Someone today said he reminded her of Biff from Back to the Future and I realize that is where my primal discomfort about  him (among other discomfort) stems from.

I have always associated men like that as abrasive bullies. I have always avoided men like him because I feel threatened and scared of that form of masculinity. I did not personally know many Biff supporters and the few that were vocal about it also showed themselves to be also be sexist or racist and were quickly shut down and de-friended.  While I don't think all Biff supporters are awful, I guess I can understand (a little) how any person could gravitate to that form of masculinity. I gravitated to that form of masculinity when Marie died.

I lost someone very important to me  and my security felt threatened once she was gone. I was under attack emotionally and mentally and  was afraid of everything and everyone. When Sean offered me  support, I readily soaked it up because I didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me. He was always saying stupid things and doing stupid things and had so little filter, it was nice to be around because it distracted me from my sadness. I would cry or have a break down and he would let me take out my frustration on him. Like physically and emotionally because he said he was strong enough for that.  I realize now he was just a sociopath who felt no pain and never took responsibility for anything.

But that brand of masculinity only went so far. It was attractive and alluring and you bet your ass when he offered me his muscly chest to sleep on I was all for that type of masculinity. But when I began to heal as a person he did not possess the basic goodness that made us compatible. I simply didn't need him to just be this body I could do bad things with. I wanted a supportive, helpful, considerate partner that could help me rebuild what I lost. I ideally needed a Mr. Darcy in my life but I went for the bully in Karate Kid. And the moment it became apparent that what I needed from him was vastly different from what initially drew me to him(a receptive body I could do good things with), his masculinity turned on me and I am still recovering from the fallout of that.

I once did a paper on masculinity because it has always fascinated me. Women are allowed to be soft and hard beings. Of course when you are too soft you are considered defenseless and when you are too hard you are considered a bitch but we can still vacillate between both versions of femininity. I always got the impression that men cannot do this. If you are too soft you are immediately emasculated and if you are too hard you can be revered and despised...at the same time. 

I recognize that that form of male-ness is what also got Biff elected. In a nation griped by various fears his abrasiveness was not an immediate turn off for some. Instead it epitomized to them the essence of authority. I doubt that he will actually be able to provide comfort and reassurance to our country in times of need. I can't imagine any future addresses to the country where he is able to express sorrow and unity. I instead expect what usually ends up being the case with most men like that...impotence and the inability to follow through. All bark and no bite.  All muscly chest but no beating heart.

I feel a little better today than I did yesterday but as someone who always plans ahead this moment in history feels like a turning point for me. I understand that Biff will be in office come January, I understand that that could mean a lot of citizens basic human-ness will be at risk.  I recognize that a lot of people are scared and uncertain and filled with the same anxiety that has crippled me since Tuesday. But this is a good thing, right? That there are a lot of me's out there wondering what happens next and are ready to step up and do something about it. What I have seen in history is that when good people sit out and don't speak out against injustice people suffer (and Biff's are elected into office). So maybe this moment in history is supposed to be a turning point, maybe this is when the change we have slowly been working towards needs to be louder and made clearer to the silent majority.

I am not so worried about my own stakes and claims post this election. I can handle whatever shit is thrown my way but I worry more about my family in the south, I worry a lot about my LGBTQ friends and my lady friends and my proud immigrant friends. I am most worried about the individuals who feel like there voice was completely silenced Tuesday and I just can't potentially go through the next four years sitting by idly if Biff (or his supporters) try to antagonize and suppress them.

Of course all I have now is the energy and determination. I am not really sure how to be of help but I am mobilizing and taking notes and I plan to get as involved as possible. Dr. Who mentions that there are fixed points in history that cannot be re-written but it doesn't mean that in those fixed points individuals can't still make a difference.

January 1st, 2000

I imagine the dread, depression, doom and general malaise I feel right now is how I would have felt on January 1st, 2000 if Y2K happened after all.

Like most American's, I am stunned by the outcome of the election. I voted for her. I was with her. I am still with her. I thought I was going to be a part of another history making/defining election after the success of electing Barack Obama 8 years ago.  When I started this blog 11 years ago, I made the conscious decision to be as vague as possible about myself physically so that whoever read this blog could relate to my words and words alone. As a writer, I am interested in connecting to all people despite my  race and gender which has often been used against me to dictate what others feel I am allowed to write about or the life experience I am allowed to live.

But when Barack Obama was elected in 2008, I was proud as an American to elect him but foremost as an African American to see someone who looked like me achieve the highest level of success. Because you know, I'm African American been so my whole life (i hope this doesn't change anything between us). Barack was, for me, a beacon of light and hope because he demolished  race barriers that I often struggle to break in my everyday life. I was always the brown girl in school who everyone made fun of because I "talked white" and was shy and  read a lot of books and liked rock music. Because of this, I have often felt strange in my own skin and strive to have people to see my character first before they focus on my skin (which yes, is like caramel)

For some reason my "blackness" was and is unusual because I am told that I don't fit into the caricature that is often perpetuated by the media. I am neither sassy or loud, argumentative or bossy. Like most human beings, I possess a multitude of traits that aren't race specific, though I live in a society that is constantly trying to attach specific generalizations on people of color.

 I am  proud of my heritage and where I am from but at the end of the day I'm really just an ordinary  girl with the same basic wants in life that I assume any other woman (or man)  wants. I just happen to have dark skin but that is the least interesting thing about me though it is the first thing that people equate my personality with. The most insulting ( and consistent thing) I hear from damn near everyone I meet is "you aren't like most black girls" as if the backhanded compliment should make me feel good. It doesn't. I don't know how other black girls are or are not, my blackness is not on some Kinsey scale of race.

When Barack came on the scene and I knew I could help elect him as the first African American president I was all about it. I rocked the vote. I listened to his  riveting speeches. I dreamed of being Michele Obama who epitomizes grace and strength.  I was so proud to see my county move into a direction where someone who looked like me could achieve so much and make an impact on the world. I cried like a baby on election night 2008. I felt proud to be a part of history. I felt proud of America's acceptance of 'blackness".

So you bet come 2016, I wanted to also have a hand in electing the first female president  for reasons that are connected to my  gender and belief that she was the best candidate for the job . I was never on the Bernie train and did not even considered a 3rd party candidate. I have admired and looked up to Hillary Clinton for as long as I can remember because she was a vocal first lady, turned senator. I didn't care if she was the perfect candidate  I just knew she was the right one. I felt energized by her campaign and message of unity. She tapped into my desire to be more of a public servant and make a change in the world. She made me care about issues and creating a vision of America that was full of hope.

I proudly supported her campaign for 14 months. I was vocal about my enthusiasm and yesterday when I woke up a 5am to head down to my polling center I was emotional as hell. The thought that I would have a hand in electing both the first African American and female president in my short voting history was overwhelming.  There was never a doubt that she would win. The polls were leaning in her favor, the other candidate seemed too much of a risk for people to vote for and I was convinced that Americans would vehemently reject his rhetoric and divisiveness of her contender.

Obviously that did not happen. I was already anxious about the election during the work day but by 10pm whatever history I thought was going to be made quickly faded to black. I watched her numbers stay the same and his increase, I felt the tension in the air, I knew that I had grossly underestimated how divided my country is. And then I forced myself to go to sleep, except this time I did not pray to God or Mother Nature of Buddha to keep me and my family safe from this disaster. I didn't pray for the nightmare to go away, or more importantly for a do-over because obviously we fucked up as a nation.

 Mainly I just laid there, with my eyes forced shut,  hoping that who I am will not (again) be something that is hated and feared in this county. I worried about my own 'blackness" and my "woman-ness", I worried about how other women or people of color would deal with this awful transition and shift in our country. I wondered if other communities (religious, immigrant, LGBT)  that were such a target of hate during this campaign season were holding up okay and I hoped that maybe they would know that I stand with them as I did with her and that love will trump hate. I promise.

The next few days,weeks and months are going to be tough. There are 71 days until inauguration, enough time to band together (enough time for him to fuck up too) and maybe create something beautiful out of this dismal situation. I think this election was an awakening we needed (but didn't want). I know and love this country and we are so much better than 288 electoral colleges. We can be so much more because of her and because of Barack and our basic human goodness. That's the only thing keeping me sane today.

#imwithher

'

I voted! I didn't get a sticker (my mom did though which she proudly sent me a picture of) but I voted and was the 2nd person in line today.  I may have cried on my walk to the local high school where I cast my vote this morning because the last 14 months have been exhausting and 5am is way too early for me to be walking to a high school but more importantly this election feels momentous. I helped elect the first African American president and yes, I want nothing more than to help elect the first female president. Tonight is going to mark a huge shift in this country and I hope that shift is towards unity and goodness above all else. 

Terms and Conditions

This morning one of my good friends from the bookstore, Christina, texted me out of the blue and asked for my mailing address. I am not going to lie, for a hot second I thought i was being set up and this was some weird attempt from Kat to reach out to me via a mutual friend.  Or maybe this was my lame hope that this was Kat's lame attempt to reach out to me just because...idk, the calm these past few weeks (slowly fading into months) is a little unnerving. It is so unlike Kat to not react harshly to any slight. And this is a huge slight.

In a weird way I am a person who doesn't necessarily thrive off of dramatic reactions but I do occasionally make bold decisions or statements anticipating that shit may or may not go down as a result. While my decision to un-friend Kat was a honest and good one for myself, I admit I was expecting some sort of cataclysmic fallout from her these past few weeks because well, she has always reacted in a cataclysmic way. Like, always.

But the past two months have been silent. There is a part of me that wants to ease into the dissolution of friendship but at the same time am too paranoid to trust this calm .

The last few months have been perplexing and relieving. Relaxing of course because not having to mince every word or feel anxious about every thing I do is well...great. But equally the silence is kind of confusing, we once didn't talk for two weeks and she was so livid we had to talk it out one night like married people. So the fact that it has now been three months since things went sour and I have heard virtually nothing form her is...perplexing.  But we were always insanely on the same page in a lot of ways and perhaps not being friends was a decision we accepted as best on both ends.

I guess in many ways, I expected and wanted a groveling Kat to appear out of the blue to validate how insane her behavior was. Even if we decided, post groveling, that it is best for us to not remain friends, it would have filled me with some relief to hear "I'm sorry that I put such terms and conditions on our friendship and that I didn't respect your boundaries". Because what I've concluded is that our friendship only worked on her terms.  Anytime, I needed to branch out and forge my own identity she would accuse me of growing distant and ruining a good thing.

She once threatened that she wouldn't be my friend anymore " ifyou keep treating me like you do"and I recognized that she was giving me an ultimatum and also explicitly making our friendship conditional. We could continue being friends only if we never disagreed, never had conflicting schedules or never needed time apart. Of course these conditions were specific to me: I disagree often, my schedule often changes and I need time apart to restore energy. And, I am not a person who deals well with terms and conditions. I am not a person who likes to be put on any leash.

And whilst discussing Kat's behavior in retrospect, I am struck by how absolutely fucking nuts her behavior was. It was crazy. It was both possessive and unhinged. If i talked about taking a class or wanting to see a movie or plans for my weekend, she would automatically assume those plans included her. And when she realized it didn't she would feel slighted and enraged. "why didn't you invite me to go" "we always do things together" "why do you keep pushing me away". But then in the same breath she would go and completely make plans for herself based on things that I did: buy a new car, visit Chicago, apartment hunt in my town.

It was strange. And because I know that it's completely insane to make any relationship conditional, why isn't she aware enough to know this. Why am I waiting around for the big epiphany to hit her, followed by an apology. Because I think what I want out of all of this is some apology. I can be a fucked up person, I can be flighty and restless and hard to grasp but my ability to love and be loved is boundless and my only favor in return is that you love me despite myself.

So yea, there was a moment of panic when I saw Christina's name pop up on my phone accompanied by a text requesting my home address. Christina is equally close to Kat as she is to me and the three of us hung out regularly while we worked at Le Sad Store. So seeing her name, I kind of expected some bull about what I did to Kat because naturally I am to blame. Despite how crazy I know the situation was, I expected Kat to blame me for everything. And I also expected her to tell anyone and everyone that I was to blame.

So I exhaled loudly, telling myself that this this was the moment the silence was disrupted and that I was in store for some unnecessary drama on my least favorite day of the week.

Christina and I were pretty close at BN. She worked in the music department and when  Kat wasn't there, I generally hung out and bonded with her. When Marie died she took care of me during the shifts were I walked in despondent. She told me her father passed away when she was super young and that she never got over it and we ugly cried in the music department while customer waited in line.She knew all about the Sean drama as it was unfolding and was the only person who came close to kicking his ass for real after everything went down.

We both quit le sad store around the same time and this revelation that we wouldn't see each other on a weekly basis crushed me. She is a force of a woman, tall and curvy to the point that people are intimidated by her size and her confidence. I called her "Mama Bear" because I admired all the things that made her intimidating and recognized quickly that she was a nurturer.  I probably spent more time  talking about intimacy and life fears and womanhood with Christina than anyone else, and I sort of admired her brand of femininity which was a mix of  real toughness and sentiment. Like lace and leather.

We've stayed in touch as much as we can but it's always an out of the blue "i miss you" followed by "same bitch". Because our circle of friends is still very tight we often meet up with a few other people from le sad store to catch up on each others happenings. I was almost certain hearing from her today meant another get together was being planned and that I would in many ways have to decline the invitation (because I have no interest in seeing Kat anytime soon). 

My fears were quickly assuaged though because she just wanted my address to send me an invitation to a baby shower.  Her baby shower. She is having an effing baby. Omg, am I at that weird age where my friends are going to get married and become parents soon?...and omg what a weird and absolutely exciting time? Or depressing time.  My Mama Bear is literally going to be a Mama Bear and what the hell, how did i get to this place. Everyone around me is growing up and progressing and adult-ing. Holy effing mess.

The baby shower a month from today and of course I have anxieties about this. I want nothing more than to be a supportive friend during this big life moment  But at the same time, i know that if i was invited Kat was invited and a baby shower seems like the worst place to duke it out with someone. Or worse, maybe we would both show up and just pretend we were never friends and spend the whole night awkwardly making sure the other person knew we were actively avoiding each other. 

I think ive decided that I am not going to go but instead have extended an invitation to Christina to hang out beforehand so I can give her her gifts in person. I knew that in ending my friendship with Kat would in many ways be ending a lot of relationships with people tied to us both. But i don't understand why I can't still maintain the friendships I have with a few small people despite the end of one major relationship. Being an adult is so stupid. Le Sigh.

NaNoWriMo is officially here!

This year, I want to participate in National Novel Writing Month.

I admit that writing and what I thought would be my adventurous life as a writer has taken a back seat to more pressing life stuff. You know, like finding a job, paying bills and making sure I can afford to live. It boggles my mind that I was so confident about my voice as a writer in high school and college than I am now. Because if I can be as honest as possible, I don't consider myself much of a writer at all.

Whatever voice I had then has been irrevocably changed by my experiences. And obviously this has to be a thing, that writers experience right? I can't be the only one who struggles to write because I don't recognize the voice in my head anymore. That voice--that girl---that woman---is so vastly different from my every day and consistent facade, I am afraid of the intimacy in those words that might come spilling out.

So I don't really write much these days, if at all. Whether it's blogging or short story/novel writing, I just am so uncomfortable in my 'writing' skin that i'd rather focus on life stuff. Mundane, boring, life stuff. Like this morning, I spent 20 minutes watching Youtube videos on laundry detergent. I wish I was joking, but honestly how effective are laundry detergent pods vs. the more conventional liquid detergent. Le sigh, how did I become this person.

Any, who I have halfheartedly participated in National Novel Writing Month every year, only to sort of give up around week 1 (hey, i'm being honest). Novel's aren't easy things to write and I have so many different stories and characters floating around in my head it's hard to narrow it down to one novel. Because of this, I want to remove the Novel out of National Novel Writing Month. Maybe I can just focus on producing some form of written work daily. I think in doing so, I can create multiple things and also maybe establish a routine of writing daily that can eventually lead to focusing on one body of work that I am actively creating.

Of course, I count blogging as a form of written work, so maybe i'll blog more during this month and if am not blogging, i want to be writing poems or short vignettes daily. I am a super practical person. I love working and making money. I love having stability outside of my creative life. But I do recognize often that writing is something I am good at and I would be disappointed and feel unfulfilled in this life if i never produced something for public consumption.

Wish me luck. i'm sure i'll be documenting most of my National Writing Month struggle here.