Love, Me

So, I joined this project called “Love, Me”, which is essentially a project with women bloggers writing love letters to themselves. Cherry Bomb, a blogger and burlesque performer that I met at Mondo Homo came up with the idea and I thought it would be an awesome idea to join. Why would you do this? Read on, friends:

The idea came to me the other day, when a person I don’t know very well said something terrible about me. I gave it some thought, started to feel broken up about it, and then I realized: I know perfectly well all of the things I don’t like about myself. So why are other people are only too happy to volunteer what they don’t like about me? Hating yourself should be passe by now, something as 1997 as brown corduroys, so why is self-loathing still en vogue? Loathing yourself makes it just that much easier to hate other people. Especially other women. Hating yourself is easy; what would truly be subversive and challenging is admitting to loving things about yourself.

So, I decided I would write a love letter to myself and publish it on my blog. I am nervous because it is a difficult task, and one that makes you vulnerable to attack. The moment you admit to loving something about yourself, you are subject to the animus of others who may want to take you down a notch. We, as female-bodied people, are not typically taught to love ourselves. We are taught to demur when given compliments, to write them off with a laugh and never absorb their true meaning. We put ourselves down for the sake of making others feel better about themselves. Admitting to loving things about yourself is egotistical, the cardinal sin of “femininity.” But what if we could articulate those things? And even more so, what if we could support other female-bodied people in doing so?

So, here goes. I am going to edit a poem I started writing a few years ago during the last breakup I had before Special Lady T popped onto the scene. As I recall, it was with La Carpentiere–who I actually SAW last week in Th’ville. Small world–and I was feeling like she was an idiot for dumping me and was trying to define myself.

Love, Me

I love solid. Midwestern
serious work ethic; I love doing
what you love as long as
what you love pays
the bills. Sometimes
you have to suck it up.
The crops must be sown.

I love salt of the earth
no airs about anyone
Or when airs are put on
airs, I love the laughter
that follows–from the gut.

I love being balls out
and the beauty of solitude and privacy.
Hiding and revealing
like a morning glory
innermost stamen thrust
to the sun on brightest days.

I love comedy and tragedy
rolled into one. Emotions
fleeting like clouds on
an overcast day. I love overcoming,
I love persevering, I love
laughing at myself.

I love romance and
old-fashioned ways–doors being opened
satin and pumps,
and manners. Yes, manners.
It’s important to be polite.

I love close families.
Cousins and kids running ramshod
through the house. Loud volume, chaotic.

I love the power of generations:
a German hat with a thousand pins on it,
a volume of Irish folktales,
a Celtic knot painted on the ceiling of the
oldest Catholic parish in town.

I love coming from women
five sisters, grandmothers, aunts,
small girl cousins–we rule the roost.
My family: mostly mom and sister
for years no men, only my brother
feminist; how to treat women drilled into
his thick head.

I love capable.
Working hard not
hardly working, I can
handle most of what
gets thrown my way.

And I love sensitive. I
love listening, even when it’s
hard. Leaving emotions checked;
I can hear most things,
recover. Empathize.

Love, Me. I love
me: a million contradictions
complexity, emotions,
depth, humor, beauty.

OK, that was very hard to write. I’m going to go back and do some edits over lunch…I’m really worried about putting myself out there like this. But I guess we shall see what comes of it.

Here’s the list of other gals doing this project:
This is Where I Write – http://rantsnotdrugs.blogspot.com/
Twenty Twenty Hindsight – http://twentytwentyhindsight.com/
Rollertrain – http://rollertrain.tumblr.com/
Fluid Pusher – http://fluidpusher.blogspot.com/
Cherry Bomb – http://www.cherrybombnyc.com

Unsure Why I Do This To Myself From Time to Time

So there it was, finally.

Last night, after a fantastic show (loads of new performers, great energy, amazing music), I was on a high. I had a great night and for some reason, I decided to blow it by logging into an ex’s blog (always a big mistake) and read a fairly blame-y description of our unhealthy “relationship”.

According to this person, I was a crazy mess (true in the case of that “relationship”) and we were unhealthy together (also true). But the description of how things ended is not sitting right with me. Nor is the nasty little dig about how he didn’t remember why he even liked me in the first place.

I have written volumes here about this particular relationship. In all, the whole thing lasted only a month or so, but it’s taken about two years for me to sort through what the hell happened. This relationship was the first and only time I’ve ever been involved in anything that resembled domestic violence (whereas this person has a history of that in his life, stretching way back). That’s not even a part of my world.

Overall, I feel like the sort of blamey tone and the description that he promptly broke up with me–when in fact he strung me along for about seven months until he found someone “better”–fills me full of rage, even two years later.

OK, how about this revision of the history: You nearly choked me to death when we were drunk (and I was nowhere near anyone I knew nor was I able to get home quickly–we were on “vacation”) and then broke up with me immediately but pretended to be my best friend until I said something mean about the relationship you’re in now, which I actually think is a disgusting re-enactment of your own childhood.

Blech. I sure didn’t need that.

Weekly Update

Whew.

It has been another whirlwind. I am just now sitting down to do something besides planning for the Beyondmedia annual gala benefit (which I have to leave for in about two hours) for the first time in about two weeks. It is nice to be in the home stretch–next week I am only doing social things (and teaching one workshop at Early to Bed) so it should be fun.

A number of interesting occurrences happened this week:

• I finally (!) met–in person and casual-like–the ex-girlfriend of one of my exes. She was the one that he was getting over when we dated. She’s a very nice lady–we had a fine time conversing with a mutual friend. When I met her, I didn’t realize she was she, but once I realized it, I worked to be relaxed and not trip about it. Her undying and passionate love of Dolly Parton made me realize that we have some things in common. It was cool to see her geek out about something that I also geek out about.
• I saw some of my Evil Ex’s friends and when I saw them, I just acted like it had been a long time since I saw them, that I was glad to see them, and that they should join the performance I was having in the next room, if they felt like it. It was kind of a breakthrough to not have all of that sting or feel strange. Guess three years is enough time for it to be water under the bridge. Also, these particular friends of my ex are the somewhat self-centered performer ones. I doubt seeing me even registered on their consciousnesses.
  
• I decided (again) that I need to lay off the performances (or slow down greatly). All of the crazy busy-ness is not making me happy and I am backing off. This also provides for opportunity for my students and they are fantastic. (I found them three potential gigs in December!)
  

In that same vein, I need to focus more on the teaching. I’m really excited that I have two classes this winter. It’s going to be so much fun! I love teaching so much. And on a very similar note, I really want to get back to a regular writing practice. I feel like I am so much more calm & sane when I have a regular writing regimen in place. I was going to try to do NaNoWriMo again this year, but it’s already the 15th and I never started.

This week also marked the second-to-last Dyke Mic of 2008. I think it might also be the second-to-last Dyke Mic ever. I’m really burned out on doing the show and there are plenty of other places to perform again. It seems like every time I start it up, a whole bunch of other shows crop up, so it’s fine to quit it. There’s not a regular crowd anyway anymore. I think the show’s time has passed.

The show this last week (the first ever Dudes Who Dig Dykes night) was a smashing success. It was so much fun–I forgot how much I missed some of my male artist friends–like Actor Slash Model and Scott Free. The poets (Kurt and Adam) were great, too. They are all really amazing artists and excellent boys. I had a great time, the place was packed and the show was energizing.

OK. I need to go style my herrrrrrz for the event tonight. I’m “MC-ing” the whole evening. Should be fun–I don’t even have to take off clothes!

"Interesting to know"

A weird comment popped up on a super old entry today. I didn’t publish it, because it felt oddly like it was from my ex–I’m probably paranoid, but it seemed like her kind of comment. It was about a song I used to sing (formerly our) her son every night before bed and some details about that and the comment was “interesting to know.” So, if “Leane”, you are not my ex…Well, then, I apologize for deleting your comment. Just seemed a little freaky and cutting close to the bone in familiar tone.

Even though it’s been three years now, I still get all visceral about our horrible breakup once a year now in November, when the weather turns cold. November was when I decided to leave–It was coming for months and months prior (I started thinking about it that March, but I was in graduate school and didn’t want to go until after I was done) but November was the final break, when I prepared to move out.

Enough about that. I don’t need a headful of ugly reminiscing to start my day.

This week is going to be very busy. Tonight is the Annual Meeting where I work and there’s a lot to finish preparing for that; Tuesday we’re back to regular teaching for the burlesque class; Wednesday is the premiere of the new season of Top Chef (Main Gay, Me, T and Pastry Chef’s regular hangout night); Thursday is Dyke Mic (second to last in the season. Praise Jesus); Friday is Date Night–Me and T are going to a movie at the Gay & Lesbian Film Fest; and then Saturday is the benefit I’ve been working on for four months for Beyondmedia.

Phew. I am exhausted already.

OK. I need to get back to the busy list-making exercise I was engaged in before the email alerting me to a comment on my blog popped in.

Boring is as Boring Does

So, according to one of my many exes-who-blog (NOT JACKET–I haven’t read it…OK?) and who I inspired to write–and yes, darling, I knew that I inspired you to write every day. I’m not stupid–my writing isn’t really interesting unless somehow the subject of the writing is mentioned. It’s like that thing where I sometimes skim my mom’s letters-to-the-family to see what she said about me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that–is blogging self-indulgent and not-inherently-interesting? I mean, yes, my emotionally-challenged ex has a point but not one that I hadn’t already rolled over in my head for oh, a decade. I mean, I write personal narrative. You have to grapple with this issue when you write personal narrative.

Resolved: Blogging, in and of itself, isn’t really interesting. It’s like reading someone’s diary: Exciting if the person has an exciting life or is going through some sort of troubling time. But when it’s just the status quo, no, not anything to write home about.

I think that the point, for me, is the practice of writing. I write as often as I can because I want to exercise my writing muscles and because when I don’t, I feel like I missed a therapy appointment. Writing here is free therapy for me. And while it is always mediated by the notion that other people are reading it, I often say things that excite people, offend them and get people all riled up. I don’t know if that is my natural propensity towards drama (certainly my beloved COF* might say so. And probably will, in comments that I won’t choose to publish.) or if it is because I am too honest.

Being too honest is a blessing and a curse. And being too honest and being really smart? It’s a recipe for being able to hurt people before they even know what happened. But on the honesty tip, here’s what I have discovered: Most people don’t want to hear the truth. Not as you see it. What they want to hear is a reality that is reflected and tempered by their world view.

“But JT,” you might cry, “Isn’t what you consider the truth really just your filtered world view?“

It’s true, readers, it’s true. That is why (these days) I check my reality when I’m not sure if I am interpreting correctly from someone else’s perspective, I ask a lot of questions, and why I think that relationships are based on whether or not your world view agrees with someone else’s world view. If you have similar world views (and upbringings, values, moral judgments, etc.), you will probably be good friends, lovers, and/or lasting partners with someone.

But back to blogging. I think that people for whom this blog will remain interesting are people who share my world view and people who (despite seeming obviously different from me for a variety of reasons) are interested in the life of a lesbian in an urban setting who is trying to figure it all out–life, balance, building a family, work, finances, having a satisfying career and still being an artist, etc. If you’re not interested in those things, yes, probably it will be boring. And if you are an ex of mine whose only reason for reading is to find digs and/or praise of yourself–someone has been clicking the old labels marked “excellent girlfriend” in the last month…sound familiar, anyone?–you are probably going to be disappointed.

Because my new resolution is to look forward and not back.

Coming up: News about two possible new jobs, the triumphant return of Dyke Mic, more musings and reports about my amazing Special Lady T, ideas about my niece’s 13th birthday party, updates on burlesque acts, chatter about go-go routines, and very exciting announcements about site-specific performance art at a hot Ukrainian Village club.

*COF = Cavalcade of Freaks. The name the E and I made up for the people I dated between El and now. There are a few exceptions, but I would say that for one reason or another, these people were mismatches in the emotional carnival that is or was my life.