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Dec. 7th, 2007

I'M BACK

So, I haven't been able to log in to livejournal for months because I forgot the password and no longer had access to the e-mail account that the password reminders were sent to. Then today, I magically guessed the password on the second try.

How exciting!

I miss writing. I miss it so.

It's a lot harder to write now because I'm happy. I'm in love with a man who loves me and I'm fairly certain I'm getting married soon. I'm appreciating my relationships more than I ever have. My family is a constant battle but, yeah... And I have a great therapist who is awesome and really helps me deal with my anxiety issues.
And I have prozac. Thank God for prozac.

Unfortunately, the source of my writing was definitely my depression and angst, and I have virtually no depression now, and much less angst.

But I am going to try, I'm going to try very hard to get it back because I miss writing.

Nov. 26th, 2006

How Not To Beg

I was in love with someone who felt nothing of the same for me. This became the baseline of my living; suddenly "You've Really Got a Hold on Me' was transferred from a campy Motown jingle to an all too knowing depiction of my current state. Never before had I noticed the sighing slow movement of the brass instruments, the mocking little piano riff, sexy and sad all at the same time. The song had always seemed a joke before; the voices half-laughing at their own desperation.
Now I had an acute sense of their accuracy; the desperation was real and you laughed at it to keep from being horrified and disgusted with yourself. 'Oh, what's that? Sobbing at stoplights, clutching my wine glass in stranger's kitchens, seeing right through a computer screen into memories I wish I had made?--That's just my lovesickness acting up again; give him a chew toy and lock him in the den until company leaves.

I thought I'd made progress. Drunkenly, I kissed someone whose last name I didn't know. I hadn't even even asked him the standard American greeting; 'so, what do you do?', when somehow he was kissing me in the car while my co-worker friend stood outside. He fondled my padded bra. Five minutes later, as we drove away from the bar, and the beau, I was ignoring his call and leaving a message on my best friend's voicemail about how much I missed T.

The next morning I laid in bed and fantasized about T bringing me to orgasm, something he'd rarely done in real life. What was genuine was me begging him not to stop, something I'd done fully clothed, constantly; always offering myself to his judgement, always submitting myself to his faith--needing him to embrace me, as I had him.

I thought I posted this before, but I guess not...

I almost wish that it was dramatically awful, concretely painful, with weeping and sighing and gnashing of teeth. That it was waking up and feeling a nothing, and feeling the naked power of that nothing, like a black hole suddenly developing in your lungs. That it was never closing an eye, finally kept awake by the real haunting ghosts of everything that has never really been, instead of the shadows of the things that were.

But it is not that.

It is, my loneliness, the most delicate and fragile of things. I forget about it for large swathes of time, several hours of the day when I seemed to have misplaced it. It's not that I don't accept it, simply that I don't welcome it as I once used to; more, it has become a Fabrige' egg I've put on display--a curious object if there ever was one.

I'm tired, so I will say it; I'm exhausted, so I don't have the strength to cover it in abstractions anymore:

I want someone to love me. I want someone to be in love with me. I want someone to make love to me. I want to sleep. In that order.

I never asked for a soul-shaking love or an all-consuming passion, all I ever wanted was normality. All I ever wanted was stability. People thought I had big dreams because I worked so hard for them, when really, all I was working for was the right to live like everyone else. I wanted to be respected and admired for being the pinnacle of normalcy; it was not until college that I wanted to set my self apart.
And while my future and my person have become so uncertain, there is still an Erica left who dreams through Lois and Clark, who wants nothing more than a pervading love and an enjoyable career.

Isn't it time? There is a time for everything, but not for me? I was growing, learning, becoming while others laid stagnant in relationships. Have I not proved myself? Have I not proved my worth, my readiness, my command of myself and the things that matter to me? And even if I haven't, I don't see all these other girls having to prove shit.

Aug. 21st, 2006

Warning! This entry is arrogant and unapologetic

I sent this E-mail to Vanessa a week or so ago and she enjoyed it so much that I thought I would pass it on...


You know occasionally Tony would go into the white boy rant of 'I'm being cheated by the system, the system is trying to screw me, it's being unfair,' and I would look at him aghast, the beautiful black vixen that I am, offering to do his laundry so that a) I wouldn't have to see it piled up anymore and b) I would have a towel to use that did not smell like mold; riding off in his shithole piece of tin that some might call a car, that is, when I did not drive myself to see him; biting my tongue through his maddening bouts of meanness, which came on for no justifiable reason; launching the occasional clever clip from my nearly ivy-league educated brain to his amusement and edification; crawling into his bed nearly every night, letting him screw me seven ways from Sunday (including into my deliciously round plum of an ass), and not letting, no encouraging him to come onto a portion of my body loaded with meaning and thoroughly researched before the design was chosen--and his life is not fucking fair? Are you fucking kidding me? Whatever unfairness perpetuated on him by the system was certainly made up through karma, via my incredibly dick-sucking skills. His life isn't fair--my ass!*
And it got me to thinking, who the fuck do these men think they are? I would say to Tony with his never gonna be a doctor, needs to just fucking graduate , I would say to J-- with his undisclosed anxiety, acne, and generally gangliness, I would say to M-- with his 5'8 not being able to express his emotions, I would say to LeJuan with his Buddha belly, unable to commit because he's looking to fill with women the large gaping emptiness inside himself ASSES--who the fuck do you think you are? You got to nail us?! Are you kidding me? V&E--double trouble, the perfect buxom twins with the maddeningly platonic homosocial relationship? You should get down on your knees and thank God for the experience. And not because we're hot, or interesting, or intelligent, or witty, or with-it, or have our shit together, or think of things independent from our own experience, or think religion is actually, really and truly comical, but because we're all of those things, two packages you did not have the monies to purchase, two gifts that showed up on your accounts as insufficient funds. We let you buy that shit on credit and you still went and acted like niggers. No more! This time we're cutting up the fucking charge cards and you can put the shards up your assholes. No more under the table deals, from here on out, your paperwork better be legit if you plan to step to one of us. We are no longer in the business of carrying you financially or emotionally unless you can prove that you can offer us the same deal.
Shit.


*I should clarify this whole 'the system' terminology, which Tony did not explicitly say, but I don't feel like it.

And I have come to the sorry conclusion that I was/am? completely in love with Tony Catalano. Damn it feels good to be an Erica...

May. 1st, 2006

Pluck

It's funny, the only reason I haven't written poetry in the few years is because I keep saying to myself, 'I don't write poetry'.


Pluck

How could one
not love
The two
oh, so, carefully
drawn
curved flesh-strokes;
capturing
the bulbous budding peaks,
smiling
onto the
flat sweetness stretched
across tender bone,
tapering
down
to
the
hooded gateway,
portal shielded
only by
fine brush
(the creator thought its glory too much)
melding into the
long length
of delicate
line?

How could one
not
pluck
a woman?

Apr. 27th, 2006

How I Found Happiness. No, seriously.

I wrote this as a personal essay in response to Milan Kundera's book. It is, actually, how I basically feel about my existence, although, obviously I am not perpetually happy. I am, however, happier than I have ever been, and in a way that does not leave me.

Read more...Collapse )

Apr. 21st, 2006

A Little S&M

There is no damn reason I should have to be so alone. I'm smothered by this emptiness, Lord I wish I was made of stone...and another night surrounds me and it pounds me like a wave, God help me, am I the only one who's ever felt this way? *



Loneliness is a curious thing. I should not be able to miss something that I have never had, that is, consistent male affection and appreciation. And yet, I do. The question is, do I miss it because society dictates that we are to roam about the earth in pairs or because I have an actual innate need to share my life with another human being?
The cynic in me would say that it is simply society, that we have all been made to believe a metaphysical myth that says we cannot go about the world alone.
The optimist, however, (or the desperate, I can never tell the difference) would point out that the myth of pairing crosses time and culture, defending in all of us a loneliness that we almost feel shame for having. In response to loneliness, Christianity gave us the prescription of Eve, Adam's cure for his solitude. Greek mythology, via Plato, excused our behavior; we were created hermaphadites, split down the middle at birth, and are forced through the course of life to seek out our other half. Both these myths, as different as they may be, assert the primacy of pairing, assert a fundamental need for human connection that has at its base a sexual attachment.

And why am I ashamed? I am not expected to go through life alone, I am not expected to die without ever marrying. In fact, were I to do so, then my normalcy would be called into question. But I am afraid to admit my loneliness, afraid that it will be seen as weakness, as lack. In the modern world women are not lonely, they are liberated. Lonely women are simply those who have yet to find themselves and are seeking a man to fill the gap. Somehow, a woman is expected to go from this period of independence to marriage without ever feeling undesired or unwanted--even when she cannot remember the last time she walked out of a movie holding hands with a man, even when she cannot remember the last time her lips clung to his, even when she cannot remember the last time a man pushed himself inside, not merely her body, but her.

And for some of us, these things have never happened. They are not memories that we have forgotten, but ones we have never even made. But we do not need to make them, desire for a man and a little human companionship is simply patriarchal hegemony. Were we stronger in our sisterhood, we would resist the very temptation to commit ourselves to that sort of bondage.


I must say; I am drawn to the chains.




*Am I the Only One (Who's Ever Felt This Way), Dixie Chicks

Apr. 5th, 2006

Celibacy...or the lack thereof

I was going to do a whole entry about my new 'Campaign for Celibacy!' and then a brief conversation with a relatively attractive english grad student convinced me that I am not going to be able to pull that off.
I had made stickers and buttons and started drafting speeches...darn.

Apr. 4th, 2006

A Defeated Return

I am making my return to livejournal. Finally. It's been so long. Unfortunately, I do not come in triumphantly with heralds ushering me in, but with near silence, merely a smattering of applause that is what my writing has become, the embarrassing prose that I am forced to call my own. I miss writing good shit. But for now, the following words must make do.


My last relationship, a man who shall be known as T, given with as a few biographical details as I can manage, primarily because I have a great respect and affection for him--I don't know how he would feel seeing his name in this sphere.


It's not that my relationship with T was bad. On the contrary, it was probably the most healthy relationship I've ever had with a man, particularly in my adult life. We laughed and rock-climbed and shot pool and watched too many movies and slept in way too much and had too little sex and I wanted to know if there could be more, if we could be more, and he didn't.
Honestly, life is so breathtaking sometimes, that I don't even need a cigarette. I go days on end without smoking because life has so sufficiently choked me up.



Overheard/reported comments:

A friend, who picked up the restaurant phone while talking to me. "Yeah I was talking to the hostess...Yeah, the really pretty one."
Random guy to T, while we were out and about and I was off somewhere, "You're hitting that? Nice."
"You're prefect, you know that?" L, while fucking me.
"I still want you in my life." T, while breaking up with me...again.

Meaningless. All of it. Still the reigning champion of being alone and unwanted. Curiously, at the time that L made that comment, I discounted it. I wrote it off as the kind of thing a man says while sliding himself into a willing female. In other words, I put the statement in its proper place. I honestly forgot he made that statement, and it only came back to me after we stopped dating. These sorts of things come back to you after you stop seeing someone. What seemed--and probably yet is--insignificant suddenly becomes meaningful, suddenly has weight and heft.

It is simply that we, human beings, cannot stand the lightness. How can we survive if not anchored down, if not tied to something, to someone?
Often when we say "heavy" when what we mean is "light". We mean that we are overcome by our lightness--our insignificance, our powerlessness, our inability to secure some sort of comfort for ourselves. Me personally, I am so light that I could cease to exist and no one would be the wiser. Not that friends and family would not mourn me, stand in ready attendance at my graveside, sit diligently through a brief eulogy of a brief life--they would. But they would all be waiting for the funeral to end. No one would find themselves wanting it to go on and on, so that somehow, I, for them, would go on and on. No one's life would be thrown off kilter by my disappearance. No one would have dreamed a dream that now could not be fulfilled because I had been a part of it. I have not moved anyone. I have not grown into anyone's core, become a nourishing source so that were they to cut me out, they would find themselves unable to continue the business of growing and straining,and fighting for sunlight. I am no one's root.


T said that he wanted me in his life. But I am in no one's life. I am orbiting the lives of those around me, a weightless satellite circling a full, lush planet. Deep inside them the lava turns over, burning in the core, but I am not a part of that fire. I have read about it in textbooks, heard about it on Discovery programs, but I have never even witnessed the flame, let alone been its fuel.
In fact, the planet's inhabitants only notice my existence when chunks of me break off and crash into their surface. They send an inquiry and after deciding that there is nothing to be done, that this will happen periodically, but it is no cause for concern, they go on about the business of getting and spending and laying waste their powers.



You can say that I am being dramatic, that I am being ridiculous, that I am being narcissistic--I am being Erica. Perhaps you did not receive a program at the beginning of this play, but I assure you, the performance will be like this throughout. There are no refunds. You should have studied up before you put your money down.

Feb. 20th, 2006

In Defense of Social Programming

Capitalism is competition at its best. We can all agree that real competition is where everyone gets a shot to compete. Therefore, in order for us to have the strongest capitalistic society, all citizens must have access to the mostbasicof social programs--education and health care (I will not discuss healthcare, however, see the bottom note).* Unfortunately, we do not have a system that adequately supplies its community with the tools it needs. With social programs, then, we are filling in the gaps where we, as citizens in a largersocial contract, have failed. I would like to know how many welfare mothers would abuse the system if they had grown up believing that they had a right to be educated and that their education would have meaning and purpose in thepractical world. Of course, it is true that there will always be people who will exploit the system. However, this exploitation is less likely to occur when people earnestly believe they have a chance at making an honest and decentliving.* The current situation in the lower classes is that the youth see little opportunity for advancement and become normalized in a culture ofviolence, crime, unemployment, etc.
And if you think there is no link between employment and crime on a sociallevel; take a look at the Gaza Strip and the West Bank where incidents of domestic violence have risen due to (largely) male frustration over not being
able to find work after Israeli sanctions. Men steal because they have nothing to lose--apparently they abuse their wives for similar reasons.
Until we shrink the gap between those for whom education is assumed and thosefor whom education is an impossible reach, until we erase a culture ofdiscrimination--social programming is our burden. We are only cleaning up the mess that we (with failed public schooling and prejudice) have created.
And, I don't believe these things are impossible. Our society has made it so that there are at least as many female students as male students at Wash U and colleges all over the country--this would have been inconceivable a few decades ago. What seemed like a liberal fantasy has become a conventional reality.
As far as social programs other than schooling, most help to reduce crime, health risks (free STD testing, vaccinations--particularly important becausethey protect us against illnesses that we do not have to consent to anything inorder to acquire them), and societal disorder (organizations for the mentally ill, disabled, etc). The aim of all social programming should ultimately be tobring the peoplein as productive members of society, so that we can draw on all of our human resources, instead of leaving persons as dead weight, benefiting no one.* That someone would say that we are de-evolving is a curious thing,particularly, because we are, on the whole, being better educated, healthier,and more stable societies. We have not permitted the fittest from surviving, or the weakest from dying, we have made it that the pool of the fittest can belarger than it once was, so that the swimmers have a real race ahead of them;and so that the weakest die not loudly in the deep, clogging up the lanes, but quietly in the shallow end, allowing the oveall competition to progress.


[Of course, thisentire argument presumes that the person has agreed to become
part of our social contract--and if you have, you cannot accept the benefits
without the responsibility].




*However, I recognize that public health care is quite problematic--socialized health care gives doctors little incentive to effectively treat their patientsand it stems the tide of medical technology. No quick fix for that one.

* The state of Kas (and possibly others?) has revamped its welfare to aworkfare program where the participants are required to work to earn theirliving--boosting their resume'--so that they will continue to be employed after
the system discharges them. I believe they also offer some vocationaleducation opportunities, but I would have to check. Either way, they have acertain period of time to get on their feet and then the program drops them, no matter how many children they have, no matter what the excuse.

*Obviously programs for the mentally ill, and permanently disabled cannot bringpeople in to society, but the alternative is blind, deaf, and mentally incapacitated persons roaming the streets, so I think the society simply has to eat it on this one. You could also make an argument that these persons in the
general atmosphere inhibit productivity with acts of crime, violence, etc.

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