I have two ideas in my head regarding Cliffy:
1. I was so wrong to ask for my house key. I can trust her - she's not the kind to go to my house without first calling to make sure - and i do still care for her tremendously. she's always got something going on with family or work and just can't give a lot of time.
or,
2. My house key floating around with her is a symbol of my heart out there, exposed. I can trust her with my home but not with my heart. I love her but we have never been something that she could manage and I realize I can't either.
So, she leaves me a message to say that she has a lot going on but then cuts herself off to tell me that I don't want to hear it. That hurts because it's untrue.
So I'm having these pieces of conversation with friends and we talk about the hurt that stops us from really enjoying ourselves, even stops us for allowing another person to enjoy us. In doing cleanup on the blog, I went through some entries from after my breakup with Ya Vez and, despite all the turmoil, I was happy to hear the young voice that was ready for the next step, for the future.
Eddie had said my voice changed. Maybe the bulk of this change happened with Cliffy. Our relationship struck me deeply and wasn't ever clean or smooth, despite our outward appearances. Ya Vez was intense and she really screwed me up but I came out of that fire reborn - a phoenix truly. I find myself still struggling a little, acting out my life and developing goals because I'm hoping some part of me will wake up and complete those things I know I want to accomplish. I felt horrible having to tell Cliffy that she was so far away from me. I've had some conversations with strangers in the last few days that have, whether by phone or in person, been so close. But, I remember Cliffy's slow withdrawal. How she could be sitting two feet from me and not be there.
I started a poem in my head last night, "corrections", that put these somnambulistic ideas to the forefront, that talked about the energy of arms crossed, the intent on our faces and in our bodies, the way someone closes their eyes while waiting for a kiss - that trust. The way a face may rest at someone's chest. Somnambulistic because we so often sleepwalk through our lives. I'm not necessarily pagan or wiccan but know that everything carries its distinct energy and, in bringing things together, energies are heightened. Like talking to plants, praying for someone miles and miles away, believing you are not alone.
Showing posts with label Cliffy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cliffy. Show all posts
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
que queer
I'm developing a piece for the Esperanza P&J Center's call for submissions for Que Queer, a art exhibit for queer/trans/2spirit/etc to be displayed during gay pride month.
I thought about it for 2 weeks and really wanted to do something but didn't really feel the ganas. Then, in cleaning up my room and storing winter things, I found these bits and pieces of cards, notes, reminders, etc of my ill fated-much emoted relationship with Cliffy.
So, I'm working on a piece and have 3 days to complete it. Crazy, no? Ay, why not.
Cliffy and I were disasterous and wonderful and she always, always made me want to write.
I thought about it for 2 weeks and really wanted to do something but didn't really feel the ganas. Then, in cleaning up my room and storing winter things, I found these bits and pieces of cards, notes, reminders, etc of my ill fated-much emoted relationship with Cliffy.
So, I'm working on a piece and have 3 days to complete it. Crazy, no? Ay, why not.
Cliffy and I were disasterous and wonderful and she always, always made me want to write.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Omarion - Ice box // done in
This is how I'm feeling - right now I'm in an argument with myself.
I'm tired.
I am getting paid more at my current job but have less money: Gas to and fro, mandatory retirement money removed fromy paycheck monthly and the car again acting up (this time the distributor went bad) all leave me with so little it hurts me that I have to talk to the little one on the phone to tell her she can't go skating because we got to save money.
And I know I'll let this go soon enough but I'm kind of irked that I was helping Cliffy update her resume and application online today because she couldn't. When we spoke yesterday I told her I would need her information and she would need to call me when she got out of work. Well, she didn't call.
I should have stopped there and let her deal with it but I keep my word - so I completed it and submitted the application on her behalf. I left her a message and I realize my voice didn't sound very loving but when am I going to get it? That here I am doing it on my own and if someone does help me I am in such a space that I feel like I'm literally getting on my hands and knees to thank them.
I know that she has family shit going on. It's not pretty. Hell, we all have family shit. The tune up for my car should have cost $50 but ended up over $100 because of the distributor (there's goes gas money for the month), my father lost his job and my mom, who is 4 months from completing payments on her car, doesn't have the $500 needed. My rent is going up but I don't have the funds I would need to be able to move right now.
So much for my temporary illusions of lower-middle class. All this crap feels like the working class stuff I've always grown up with. [Don't think it doesn't remind me of my being single, and not having a companion for emotional/financial/spiritual support - that's a whole other blog entry.]
Thursday, January 18, 2007
freezing cold?
Well, I took the ice storm of 2007 much better than I thought I would. I didn't trip out while driving, I wasn't cold in the house and I didn't have any trouble with the plants, pipes or kid. I am glad I paid the extra bucks to get the back brakes fixed up though. You could feel the difference on the road. And, just as they were lowering my vehicle from the lift, the cold front was blowing in Saturday morning.
The city didn't fare as well. Everything closed down. Highways, stores, schools, work, etc. It was crazy. Tigrette spent some time at my mom's, which let me write. I got 13 pages of poems down and, amazingly, they came as a group. I actually see them as the beginnings of a book. So, of course, I've got to fight myself constantly to ensure I keep writing before I lose that feeling and I'm on to another subject. It was hard enough not getting up for every little noise or to make a cup of coffee or check how full of ice the bird feeder was.
This series idea started with an article about a bullfighting school in Southern Califas, where they practice "tientas", a bloodless match which tests the skill of the bullfighter and the bull. A flash went off and I ended up equating the idea with my relationship with Ya Vez. I had debated writing more about our relationship as a way to continue healing past it. Still, I didn't want to give it all the attention an entire book might give. So, I thought to use Anne Carson's new book Decreation, as inspiration. Her other books have offered as much illumination. She's fabulous. I would love to study with her.
Once I sat down with the idea, I wrote very little about the whole break up. It really did leave a bad taste in my mouth, while at the same time, I was thankful to have gone through it and be past it all. Rather than focus on this old air, I was able to write these pieces which focused on my perspective now, how it's changed and how I could bridge that person I was before this last 5 years with the person I have become.
Strangely, last week's final bye with Cliffy, and this new writing spurt were prompted by this one man who was attending the conference a sister office at work was having. He was strangely matter-of-fact when he came up to me while I was at the registration table the first evening during a reception. He asked where the next day's sessions would be, and some other question before telling me I was pretty. Then he asked me another question regarding the conference. He was a gorgeous man. I wasn't unaffected, you know? But I realized, with all the thoughts growing in me, that I had changed with the last 5 years and I didn't like the parts of me that had grown cautious, reserved, secretive or scared. I missed those pieces within me that made me distinct. I ended up going across the street after the reception cleanup was done, to Ruta Maya, and wrote while a drum circle took place for awareness about Darfur.
The next day he and I actually spoke and I was a lot looser than the day before. I felt the freedom that was due me. I can't be so angry with Ya Vez or Cliffy for their expectations but I can be more clear in what it is that I need. I also can't fight hard enough to remove those commonplace ideas of what's considered "normal" or "acceptable" behavior to define me to the point of suffocation.
I know that, as a woman I could easily ask myself why some small compliment was needed to turn me around. I should be able to lift myself up. But, I keep thinking about that night I left Osento, the evening before I returned home from San Francisco a couple of summers ago. I had spent 5 or 6 hours in Osento's getting a massage, loving the dry sauna, reading, meditating, etc. I had spent almost two weeks recommitting myself to my writing, its importance. When I walked out to catch the last bus back to USF, this homeless woman looked up at me and, just as she was about to ask for money, she told me I was beautiful. I thought this was bad ass - yes, you know the transformation you are working on but it's wonderful when someone else catches a glimpse of it too. This man reminded me of the changes I had accomplished but also reminded me that I had pushed some things aside which shouldn't have been pushed aside.
The city didn't fare as well. Everything closed down. Highways, stores, schools, work, etc. It was crazy. Tigrette spent some time at my mom's, which let me write. I got 13 pages of poems down and, amazingly, they came as a group. I actually see them as the beginnings of a book. So, of course, I've got to fight myself constantly to ensure I keep writing before I lose that feeling and I'm on to another subject. It was hard enough not getting up for every little noise or to make a cup of coffee or check how full of ice the bird feeder was.
This series idea started with an article about a bullfighting school in Southern Califas, where they practice "tientas", a bloodless match which tests the skill of the bullfighter and the bull. A flash went off and I ended up equating the idea with my relationship with Ya Vez. I had debated writing more about our relationship as a way to continue healing past it. Still, I didn't want to give it all the attention an entire book might give. So, I thought to use Anne Carson's new book Decreation, as inspiration. Her other books have offered as much illumination. She's fabulous. I would love to study with her.
Once I sat down with the idea, I wrote very little about the whole break up. It really did leave a bad taste in my mouth, while at the same time, I was thankful to have gone through it and be past it all. Rather than focus on this old air, I was able to write these pieces which focused on my perspective now, how it's changed and how I could bridge that person I was before this last 5 years with the person I have become.
Strangely, last week's final bye with Cliffy, and this new writing spurt were prompted by this one man who was attending the conference a sister office at work was having. He was strangely matter-of-fact when he came up to me while I was at the registration table the first evening during a reception. He asked where the next day's sessions would be, and some other question before telling me I was pretty. Then he asked me another question regarding the conference. He was a gorgeous man. I wasn't unaffected, you know? But I realized, with all the thoughts growing in me, that I had changed with the last 5 years and I didn't like the parts of me that had grown cautious, reserved, secretive or scared. I missed those pieces within me that made me distinct. I ended up going across the street after the reception cleanup was done, to Ruta Maya, and wrote while a drum circle took place for awareness about Darfur.
The next day he and I actually spoke and I was a lot looser than the day before. I felt the freedom that was due me. I can't be so angry with Ya Vez or Cliffy for their expectations but I can be more clear in what it is that I need. I also can't fight hard enough to remove those commonplace ideas of what's considered "normal" or "acceptable" behavior to define me to the point of suffocation.
I know that, as a woman I could easily ask myself why some small compliment was needed to turn me around. I should be able to lift myself up. But, I keep thinking about that night I left Osento, the evening before I returned home from San Francisco a couple of summers ago. I had spent 5 or 6 hours in Osento's getting a massage, loving the dry sauna, reading, meditating, etc. I had spent almost two weeks recommitting myself to my writing, its importance. When I walked out to catch the last bus back to USF, this homeless woman looked up at me and, just as she was about to ask for money, she told me I was beautiful. I thought this was bad ass - yes, you know the transformation you are working on but it's wonderful when someone else catches a glimpse of it too. This man reminded me of the changes I had accomplished but also reminded me that I had pushed some things aside which shouldn't have been pushed aside.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
conflicted
I had a great weekend with Cliffy a couple of weeks ago. Amazing feeling, really connecting, happy, etc. I saw her this weekend too but this was a little more hit and miss.
Let me just say that, unfortunately, I am a romantic. So, of course, I wanted to see her and be close to her but it felt like there wasn't enough time. So I'm conflicted between wanting to really enjoy my weekend, be out a little, and wanting to just cocoon with her. She deserves some time off, I tell myself. But we don't get a lot of time together and she doesn't work a 50-hour a week job, I also say. And that's what has me off-kilter energy-wise.
We feel so intensely when we are together but my heart hurts that I'm limited to weekends without some, on the fly, opportunities to really be together. If it's not about us being together eventually, what are we doing with so much feeling but so little future? This idea just makes me hurt more.
I would like her to move faster in her search for full-time work and to be the flame for her own desire for better health. Often I feel like she needs someone to be that flame - I can understand that - in some ways we all need someone who is going to cheer us on... hell, I feel it too. But you have to put out the energy too - for yourself and your goals and for the person/people supporting you or you are just taking.
I realized, when we went to this gathering for a meditation on Sunday, that we often aren't tapping that limitless source of energy and instead are tapping each other for strength and healing. That energy is often depleted quickly. I also was reminded that maybe I'm here for a reason. As I sat there hearing Cliffy talk with the man who helped us through the meditation, I was reminded of our initial meeting (that crazy, energy-filled look we shared) and how she had moved to Austin because she wanted the city again and because she saw potential with me. And when I thought for sure she would stay there, the shock that she moved back here. Am I ridiculously mis-reading something when I think that we have some "something" that keeps us hovering around the other?
If I am, it's been this connection that has kept me close to her. I used to think Cliffy needed to tell me there was nothing between us or we weren't going to be anything so that I could walk away. But that presumed she had an understanding of our situation. I don't think she's any clearer than I am. I just wish she was vocal, flamed up and ready to say she saw that "something" in us too. Often, I think we are handed this small potential and we have to make it something.
Let me just say that, unfortunately, I am a romantic. So, of course, I wanted to see her and be close to her but it felt like there wasn't enough time. So I'm conflicted between wanting to really enjoy my weekend, be out a little, and wanting to just cocoon with her. She deserves some time off, I tell myself. But we don't get a lot of time together and she doesn't work a 50-hour a week job, I also say. And that's what has me off-kilter energy-wise.
We feel so intensely when we are together but my heart hurts that I'm limited to weekends without some, on the fly, opportunities to really be together. If it's not about us being together eventually, what are we doing with so much feeling but so little future? This idea just makes me hurt more.
I would like her to move faster in her search for full-time work and to be the flame for her own desire for better health. Often I feel like she needs someone to be that flame - I can understand that - in some ways we all need someone who is going to cheer us on... hell, I feel it too. But you have to put out the energy too - for yourself and your goals and for the person/people supporting you or you are just taking.
I realized, when we went to this gathering for a meditation on Sunday, that we often aren't tapping that limitless source of energy and instead are tapping each other for strength and healing. That energy is often depleted quickly. I also was reminded that maybe I'm here for a reason. As I sat there hearing Cliffy talk with the man who helped us through the meditation, I was reminded of our initial meeting (that crazy, energy-filled look we shared) and how she had moved to Austin because she wanted the city again and because she saw potential with me. And when I thought for sure she would stay there, the shock that she moved back here. Am I ridiculously mis-reading something when I think that we have some "something" that keeps us hovering around the other?
If I am, it's been this connection that has kept me close to her. I used to think Cliffy needed to tell me there was nothing between us or we weren't going to be anything so that I could walk away. But that presumed she had an understanding of our situation. I don't think she's any clearer than I am. I just wish she was vocal, flamed up and ready to say she saw that "something" in us too. Often, I think we are handed this small potential and we have to make it something.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
what was in the cosmos last night?
Lordlordlordlordlordlord
All I wanted to do yesterday was work late to accrue some comp time, do some small shopping for the holiday and head over to Luna Fine Music Club, a great club with great local and regional music. Well, I didn't make it to Luna.
I was upset about it too - Percussion work is great at motivating me and also calming me. i could have used some percussion. So I worked late yesterday and got to the Park & Ride to find my car had a flat tire. I have changed tires before but not on such a big thing (i.e. The Silver Bullet, the old Plymouth van) so, of course, I attempted it anyway. I'm a dyke - I gotta try.
After loosening the nuts and pulling the spare and jack out, I start putting the jack under to look for the place where it's supposed to sit (I have my car manual in my hand and my flashlight, of course). At which point this drunk guy waiting for his ride comes over, sits his beer down and tells me he is sick but can help me by bringing the tire closer to me since, because he's sick, he can't do a lot of strenuous stuff.
Did I guilt him into coming over? Is that something men have to do, even if they aren't helping? If a woman had come over I wouldn't have been so upset - the conversation at least would have been better and my boobs wouldn't have necessarily been an incentive to stay so long. I was bending down, over and over, to pump the manual jack. I don't understand men at all. I'd rather have him stay away and drink his beer than come and not help, talk a lot while I sweat and then pretend to help when his ride got there. I told him plainly - Is that your ride. You can go. I don't think men understand the power they carry. Walking up to a woman with a beer in your hand can be scary - esp. at a dark Park & Ride 7 at night - it's definitely not cool.
He made the situation worse anyway when his ride showed and he had to look like he'd been helping - when he finally said he would help with the jack and was trying to do it all fast and hard and the jack tilted to the side and the van fell down. I was freaked. After he left I tried again and the jack tilted again, this time falling on the bare frame since I'd managed to get the tire off before.
I called a friend of mine to see if her dad could help and then Cliffy so I could calm down some. She helped tremendously as we were able to have a bit of a conversation talking about the things we want and need to do as individuals and I could feel support from her and give her support too. At that point this truckload of Latinos came by and helped me. There were 5 of them and they were great. They didn't want to take money but I forced a ten dollar bill on them and drove off. They even put my messed up tire in the van for me and cleaned up, put a rock to hold the back tire (something I'd forgotten!), etc.
Afterward, I still had all those errands and went to Target to buy Tigrette this super cool little, girly mp3 player. it was such a cute one, after putting music on it late last night, I wanted to keep it. it's pink and glittery and holds about 125 songs while using just one AAA battery. I'm always amazed at technology. How it can be flimsy, pretty and still powerful. Is that an American consumerist thing?
My mother bought walkie-talkies for Tigrette but I found some cheaper at Target so I bought those and took the ones she bought back for a refund. By the time I was done with errands and grabbing a bite to eat, I was too tired to go to Luna. I suppose, after all this stuff, I really should have gone.
Especially since I got home and found that my water had been turned off. The property pays water so i'm not sure why it was off for me and my next door neighbor but worked in the other apartments. I tried calling the office and the number had been disconnected. No, not a good sign.
To top off the evening, i woke up at 3 a.m. to a noise and was going to discount it or blame it on the neighbors (they can be lovingly noisy with their own lives) but i went downstairs to find that my Christmas tree had fallen. I didn't realize how tall 7 feet was until I had to lift it up and put ornaments back on it all. I wondered if maybe it was the disco ball ornaments that was just too much for my sad tree. Or maybe the tree is conservative and the quiet reference to gayness was going too far!
What an evening, no?! Maybe it was the moon's lunar void cycle, which began at about the time I discovered my flat and ended at about the time the tree toppled over.
I woke up this morning thinking I had survived some strange planetary shift.
On the plus side, Roberto Rey agreed to teach Tigrette guitar so she can go back to being crazy with the music like she was a couple of years ago when she was learning with Lourdes Perez. She'd been wanting an electric guitar so I told her she had to get the acoustic down first.
I keep thinking of how nice it will be to have Roberto in the house - he's a great guy with a lot of talent and patience - a real love for every moment he is in. We try hanging out sometimes but schedules don't always work so this is a good opportunity not just for Tigrette but for me to have someone around who also taps the cosmos for creativity.
All I wanted to do yesterday was work late to accrue some comp time, do some small shopping for the holiday and head over to Luna Fine Music Club, a great club with great local and regional music. Well, I didn't make it to Luna.
I was upset about it too - Percussion work is great at motivating me and also calming me. i could have used some percussion. So I worked late yesterday and got to the Park & Ride to find my car had a flat tire. I have changed tires before but not on such a big thing (i.e. The Silver Bullet, the old Plymouth van) so, of course, I attempted it anyway. I'm a dyke - I gotta try.
After loosening the nuts and pulling the spare and jack out, I start putting the jack under to look for the place where it's supposed to sit (I have my car manual in my hand and my flashlight, of course). At which point this drunk guy waiting for his ride comes over, sits his beer down and tells me he is sick but can help me by bringing the tire closer to me since, because he's sick, he can't do a lot of strenuous stuff.
Did I guilt him into coming over? Is that something men have to do, even if they aren't helping? If a woman had come over I wouldn't have been so upset - the conversation at least would have been better and my boobs wouldn't have necessarily been an incentive to stay so long. I was bending down, over and over, to pump the manual jack. I don't understand men at all. I'd rather have him stay away and drink his beer than come and not help, talk a lot while I sweat and then pretend to help when his ride got there. I told him plainly - Is that your ride. You can go. I don't think men understand the power they carry. Walking up to a woman with a beer in your hand can be scary - esp. at a dark Park & Ride 7 at night - it's definitely not cool.
He made the situation worse anyway when his ride showed and he had to look like he'd been helping - when he finally said he would help with the jack and was trying to do it all fast and hard and the jack tilted to the side and the van fell down. I was freaked. After he left I tried again and the jack tilted again, this time falling on the bare frame since I'd managed to get the tire off before.
I called a friend of mine to see if her dad could help and then Cliffy so I could calm down some. She helped tremendously as we were able to have a bit of a conversation talking about the things we want and need to do as individuals and I could feel support from her and give her support too. At that point this truckload of Latinos came by and helped me. There were 5 of them and they were great. They didn't want to take money but I forced a ten dollar bill on them and drove off. They even put my messed up tire in the van for me and cleaned up, put a rock to hold the back tire (something I'd forgotten!), etc.
Afterward, I still had all those errands and went to Target to buy Tigrette this super cool little, girly mp3 player. it was such a cute one, after putting music on it late last night, I wanted to keep it. it's pink and glittery and holds about 125 songs while using just one AAA battery. I'm always amazed at technology. How it can be flimsy, pretty and still powerful. Is that an American consumerist thing?
My mother bought walkie-talkies for Tigrette but I found some cheaper at Target so I bought those and took the ones she bought back for a refund. By the time I was done with errands and grabbing a bite to eat, I was too tired to go to Luna. I suppose, after all this stuff, I really should have gone.
Especially since I got home and found that my water had been turned off. The property pays water so i'm not sure why it was off for me and my next door neighbor but worked in the other apartments. I tried calling the office and the number had been disconnected. No, not a good sign.
To top off the evening, i woke up at 3 a.m. to a noise and was going to discount it or blame it on the neighbors (they can be lovingly noisy with their own lives) but i went downstairs to find that my Christmas tree had fallen. I didn't realize how tall 7 feet was until I had to lift it up and put ornaments back on it all. I wondered if maybe it was the disco ball ornaments that was just too much for my sad tree. Or maybe the tree is conservative and the quiet reference to gayness was going too far!
What an evening, no?! Maybe it was the moon's lunar void cycle, which began at about the time I discovered my flat and ended at about the time the tree toppled over.
I woke up this morning thinking I had survived some strange planetary shift.
On the plus side, Roberto Rey agreed to teach Tigrette guitar so she can go back to being crazy with the music like she was a couple of years ago when she was learning with Lourdes Perez. She'd been wanting an electric guitar so I told her she had to get the acoustic down first.
I keep thinking of how nice it will be to have Roberto in the house - he's a great guy with a lot of talent and patience - a real love for every moment he is in. We try hanging out sometimes but schedules don't always work so this is a good opportunity not just for Tigrette but for me to have someone around who also taps the cosmos for creativity.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
last of the cliffy
I wanted conversation, some close, to Cliffy but it's been weeks since we spoke - or tried to do so. A couple of weeks ago she went with me to hear my energy worker speak with a small group. She was able to open up in front of strangers. Many thanked her for revealing herself. I have no beginning idea for why she can't do so with those who would like to love her.
But I felt like I was losing myself in the idea of trying to help her.
And, what's more, I didn't feel the love that would have enabled me to go that journey - if she's even capable of it, or ever was.
I hate it because, like so many women, we hold ourselves back for too long. I've had some things about Cliffy on my mind but this isn't even the place for it. I'm just sorry I wasn't the right one for her. It hurts me that we both left hurting. It hurts me that she could see life with me but couldn't put the energy to making it be.
But I felt like I was losing myself in the idea of trying to help her.
And, what's more, I didn't feel the love that would have enabled me to go that journey - if she's even capable of it, or ever was.
I hate it because, like so many women, we hold ourselves back for too long. I've had some things about Cliffy on my mind but this isn't even the place for it. I'm just sorry I wasn't the right one for her. It hurts me that we both left hurting. It hurts me that she could see life with me but couldn't put the energy to making it be.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
averting a skirt controversy
On the way to work, listening to Akon and Young Jeezy, I realized I wore a skirt in high school: in 10th grade and for the graduation ceremony. Both of them green. Just to clarify - 5th grade wasn't the last time I'd worn one.
I miss Cliffy today. Have kept myself busy but still feel it. Maybe it's because I could imagine her hands up into my skirt. Maybe because I think she would have liked living here instead - that we could have made a go at it and things would have been good since we'd still visit Austin plenty and she'd be able to see her family more.
In looking for places to live, there were a couple of really great spaces not too far from her mother.
Argh! I need to pull this stuff of Cliffy out of me. It feels like I'm full of deep ocean water and reminders of her are small pieces of paper floating on the top. They cling to me but can't necessarily be cupped out.
I miss Cliffy today. Have kept myself busy but still feel it. Maybe it's because I could imagine her hands up into my skirt. Maybe because I think she would have liked living here instead - that we could have made a go at it and things would have been good since we'd still visit Austin plenty and she'd be able to see her family more.
In looking for places to live, there were a couple of really great spaces not too far from her mother.
Argh! I need to pull this stuff of Cliffy out of me. It feels like I'm full of deep ocean water and reminders of her are small pieces of paper floating on the top. They cling to me but can't necessarily be cupped out.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
tarot readings/cappucino frothiness readings/clouds descending
I was going through all of my business cards early this morning and found a card for a great card reader who does his work at BookPeople. He gave me a great reading. Turns out Cliffy came home one day with his card and she was feeling all loving - said that he said the cards showed we had a good foundation and relationship but that I didn't always understand her and she would have to verbalize (I am exercising my right to reword his words) so that I could help her.
Used to be I thought love between Cliffy and I wasn'tenough. Now, neither is magic. If not love or magic to motivate us, what makes us move/choose?
I went to work today. It's a place that's more structured than I'd realized or would like. I'm used to nonprofits with few boundaries, where everyone does everything. Maybe that's why this group is doing so well financially, and seems to be doing good work.
On my way home I happened by a bus stop and saw an old aquaintance. I got plenty of rides home when I was without a vehicle so I turned around and gave him a ride. Within a half breath, talk of my former workplace started. Girls, it's worse than I could have imagined: people not representing themselves correctly, friends helping friends, CDC money no longer trickling in, and those remaining thinking they have all the answers but coming to other groups with more questions than solutions. People keep asking me to do something, say something, start some fire or point some fingers. Where do you start?
All this week people have been talking to me about karma. My only beef with the whole idea is that it becomes so pseudo-spiritual to believe in those aspects of a religion without having to commit to the rest. Then, if karma is what keeps us from acting up, why do we have a mouth and eyes to see injustice at all? Why are there whistleblowers who, like a surge of energy, make a change within what's considered appropriate or customary behavior.
My head was all over today. I need sleep even if I'm craving a double espreso con panna.
Used to be I thought love between Cliffy and I wasn'tenough. Now, neither is magic. If not love or magic to motivate us, what makes us move/choose?
I went to work today. It's a place that's more structured than I'd realized or would like. I'm used to nonprofits with few boundaries, where everyone does everything. Maybe that's why this group is doing so well financially, and seems to be doing good work.
On my way home I happened by a bus stop and saw an old aquaintance. I got plenty of rides home when I was without a vehicle so I turned around and gave him a ride. Within a half breath, talk of my former workplace started. Girls, it's worse than I could have imagined: people not representing themselves correctly, friends helping friends, CDC money no longer trickling in, and those remaining thinking they have all the answers but coming to other groups with more questions than solutions. People keep asking me to do something, say something, start some fire or point some fingers. Where do you start?
All this week people have been talking to me about karma. My only beef with the whole idea is that it becomes so pseudo-spiritual to believe in those aspects of a religion without having to commit to the rest. Then, if karma is what keeps us from acting up, why do we have a mouth and eyes to see injustice at all? Why are there whistleblowers who, like a surge of energy, make a change within what's considered appropriate or customary behavior.
My head was all over today. I need sleep even if I'm craving a double espreso con panna.
Friday, January 13, 2006
woo hoo! or, Oya visits
Tigrette wrote me a great note saying:
It's just Mamaaaaaa Magic! Yes, It is!
I got a job. An incredible job. Doing good work. Making a difference, getting paid well and working with people who are smart, humble and earthy.
A strong part of me is sad that Cliffy didn't have the courage to wait for me, for this job to come through. But some foundation in me, some root is quivering with the good fortune that was given to me in not being with Cliffy now. Better now than to have waited for something horrible, like a family death or incredible illness, and find myself without support.
I have been writing my play, which circles around Oya, the orisha of wind, the guide for the newly dead, the woman warrior, the woman who survives hardships and is stronger for them.
Today I worked on the warnings she gives. While I didn't find a color code like the government's, I did develop, based on her stories, a list of warnings.
1st warning: Lightening that does not touch the sky. She is reminding us to look at our actions.
2nd warning: Strong wind before a storm, and the storm. She is more tangible, reminding us of the correct way to walk.
3rd warning: Tornado. She is walking the earth. Something on the earth needs her attention.
4th warning: Hurricanes, monsoons, tsunamis, other major water expressions. Watch out.
But in each destructive act, there is regrowth and development, a chance for true change.
Makes me think of Hurricane Katrina and how quickly people of color journalists and bloggers and community members were, despite the tragedy, hopeful that real change could be made - that life could be turned completely for the better. That, I see, takes hope too. Well, that and belief in the commitment and work needed to manifest hope.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
throwing it in the ocean
I have this short poem I wrote for the manuscript. I thought I'd put it here.
the coffee press
over cafe con leche and pan tostado
Pipo would tell me
throw everything to the ocean
each time he moved
all that came along was the coffee press,
seersucker suit and white loafers
two and a half years later, I am still in boxes,
holding close only the mortar and pestle he gave me
in each move, less and less goes in boxes
the ocean is always swallowing us, Pipo says,
returning only the necessary
I had jury duty today and thought, since I was downtown, I would leave this shirt I had recreated for Cliffy at her work. I didn't want to see her. The last words she told me, right outside my door, was that she'd call me. No call yet. I don't know what I would tell her if she did call.
Still, I didn't know how to get this shirt to her without having to see her. I was presuming she wasn't going to want to see me anyhow. All the signs told me not to bother. I mean, on the highway back toward town there was a huge recliner on the highway blocking my way. As I got a block away from the day care she works at my radio started buzzing in and out like some magnetic freakout then, just as the light on Trinity and Cesar turned green, the car ahead of me went and, defying the lights, this truck barreled into it right in front of me. It had taken the red light on the cross-street. Majorly fucked up scene.
I drove past the back entrance of her job and had to back up because all I wanted was to find her car and hook her shirt on the it somehow. I couldn't find it but a woman was just walking into the day care's gate and I called out to her and asked her to give it to Cliffy. She told me that Cliffy was actually watching her class then so she could give it to her right away.
So, I was happy to at least not see Cliffy directly. My mother told me to just throw the shirt away. Another friend told me that it was a good shirt and I should just keep it. I was true to myself in that I wasn't giving her the shirt in order to see her again or be near her. Rather, it was important to me to complete the promise I'd made to recreate her shirt for her in the way she wanted. I didn't realize until now, writing this, that I might be doing it in reaction to Cliffy's not keeping her promise.
I'm still not feeling well and this kind of action just tells me I'm still reactive instead of proactive. In many ways, I feel like bringing everyone down a peg, calling them on their shit. I feel like fighting.
Krissy told me yesterday, in our time together, that I was like a mama leopard, some big cat, who was napping. I was loving and warm but everyone should know not to agitate me. This cat's awake today - and not liking what she sees.
the coffee press
over cafe con leche and pan tostado
Pipo would tell me
throw everything to the ocean
each time he moved
all that came along was the coffee press,
seersucker suit and white loafers
two and a half years later, I am still in boxes,
holding close only the mortar and pestle he gave me
in each move, less and less goes in boxes
the ocean is always swallowing us, Pipo says,
returning only the necessary
I had jury duty today and thought, since I was downtown, I would leave this shirt I had recreated for Cliffy at her work. I didn't want to see her. The last words she told me, right outside my door, was that she'd call me. No call yet. I don't know what I would tell her if she did call.
Still, I didn't know how to get this shirt to her without having to see her. I was presuming she wasn't going to want to see me anyhow. All the signs told me not to bother. I mean, on the highway back toward town there was a huge recliner on the highway blocking my way. As I got a block away from the day care she works at my radio started buzzing in and out like some magnetic freakout then, just as the light on Trinity and Cesar turned green, the car ahead of me went and, defying the lights, this truck barreled into it right in front of me. It had taken the red light on the cross-street. Majorly fucked up scene.
I drove past the back entrance of her job and had to back up because all I wanted was to find her car and hook her shirt on the it somehow. I couldn't find it but a woman was just walking into the day care's gate and I called out to her and asked her to give it to Cliffy. She told me that Cliffy was actually watching her class then so she could give it to her right away.
So, I was happy to at least not see Cliffy directly. My mother told me to just throw the shirt away. Another friend told me that it was a good shirt and I should just keep it. I was true to myself in that I wasn't giving her the shirt in order to see her again or be near her. Rather, it was important to me to complete the promise I'd made to recreate her shirt for her in the way she wanted. I didn't realize until now, writing this, that I might be doing it in reaction to Cliffy's not keeping her promise.
I'm still not feeling well and this kind of action just tells me I'm still reactive instead of proactive. In many ways, I feel like bringing everyone down a peg, calling them on their shit. I feel like fighting.
Krissy told me yesterday, in our time together, that I was like a mama leopard, some big cat, who was napping. I was loving and warm but everyone should know not to agitate me. This cat's awake today - and not liking what she sees.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
woman seeking woman...
... to press DELETE on my answering machine.
there's one old message there from Cliffy.
I've been working on my poems and wrote more on a poem I'd started months and months ago (the first time Cliffy and I were together). Scope it:
untranslatable passage
to Cliffy
your skin still carries the vein breaks of a strong fever,
that reminder of warmth evident in your hands
migrant spirits born by fire
your heat so strong your mother
ran to her mother’s
for tila and a touch on your tender head
bus ride to the border
three hours of heat
stealing into you
just one of the journeys
you were meant to decipher
others journeys met with you
and slowly, rather than feed the fire,
they wore your skin far too thin
made your eyes smoldering but sleepy
there was no one there to do a cura
to teach the prayer
to keep your spirit moving
your words don’t join
to hold the memory
what shivering has replaced your warmth?
like animals sneaking into your home for winter,
there isn’t enough blood circulating to stave off the cold
some transfusion your arms hooked
to the walls of your mother’s house
My friend Laura actually helped me look through a lot of poems as well as give me some much needed company. Because we've always had the same taste, and as I was in the mood to get rid of some stuff, I gave her a few frames, books and some Frida magnets. It feels good to give it up. She, in return, gave me incredible insight into some of my pieces. I'm enjoying the kind of work I've been creating lately : texture heavy with surrealism. And, surprising even to me, more individualistic. Feels right since poetry is so personal/specific.
there's one old message there from Cliffy.
I've been working on my poems and wrote more on a poem I'd started months and months ago (the first time Cliffy and I were together). Scope it:
untranslatable passage
to Cliffy
your skin still carries the vein breaks of a strong fever,
that reminder of warmth evident in your hands
migrant spirits born by fire
your heat so strong your mother
ran to her mother’s
for tila and a touch on your tender head
bus ride to the border
three hours of heat
stealing into you
just one of the journeys
you were meant to decipher
others journeys met with you
and slowly, rather than feed the fire,
they wore your skin far too thin
made your eyes smoldering but sleepy
there was no one there to do a cura
to teach the prayer
to keep your spirit moving
your words don’t join
to hold the memory
what shivering has replaced your warmth?
like animals sneaking into your home for winter,
there isn’t enough blood circulating to stave off the cold
some transfusion your arms hooked
to the walls of your mother’s house
My friend Laura actually helped me look through a lot of poems as well as give me some much needed company. Because we've always had the same taste, and as I was in the mood to get rid of some stuff, I gave her a few frames, books and some Frida magnets. It feels good to give it up. She, in return, gave me incredible insight into some of my pieces. I'm enjoying the kind of work I've been creating lately : texture heavy with surrealism. And, surprising even to me, more individualistic. Feels right since poetry is so personal/specific.
hair
I didn't remember until now that I cut my hair whenever I want to assert myself or when I feel out of it. I had intended to grow it out some. I like it when it gets to my shoulders because then I can freak it like Macy Gray's 'do.
But I've done it again. It is so short and feels great. I have to admit, it was nice to have the haircutter, this attractive femme Latina with higlights, run her fingers through.
At this point, with everything going on, I may never have my hair long again.
Krissy's promised me a great time tomorrow night with an evening out to see a group called echoset and I could use it - an excuse for lipstick. I got a card today in the mail addressed to Cliffy and me, announcing a commitment ceremony for two friends. Another friend ended her marriage after two decades because she was transitioning. From her account of their way of being, they had a lot of love and support for each other. I'm happy for my friends doing the ceremony and, while it's sad that my other friend is now divorced, I'm glad all of them have been able to find some deep-rooted joy in having come together with someone. The whole thing makes me wonder how you ever know who is forever. There should be some sort of test you give each other beforehand.
Today my chest feels like it has a huge square box inside it. Like scar tissue or man-made materials replacing my insides. I can't move it out with my mind but I can't see inside the box either. Dark red, purple, viscous thing doesn't let me take deep breaths. I'm up late, wrote some, mostly awake because I'm dreading going to bed.
But I've done it again. It is so short and feels great. I have to admit, it was nice to have the haircutter, this attractive femme Latina with higlights, run her fingers through.
At this point, with everything going on, I may never have my hair long again.
Krissy's promised me a great time tomorrow night with an evening out to see a group called echoset and I could use it - an excuse for lipstick. I got a card today in the mail addressed to Cliffy and me, announcing a commitment ceremony for two friends. Another friend ended her marriage after two decades because she was transitioning. From her account of their way of being, they had a lot of love and support for each other. I'm happy for my friends doing the ceremony and, while it's sad that my other friend is now divorced, I'm glad all of them have been able to find some deep-rooted joy in having come together with someone. The whole thing makes me wonder how you ever know who is forever. There should be some sort of test you give each other beforehand.
Today my chest feels like it has a huge square box inside it. Like scar tissue or man-made materials replacing my insides. I can't move it out with my mind but I can't see inside the box either. Dark red, purple, viscous thing doesn't let me take deep breaths. I'm up late, wrote some, mostly awake because I'm dreading going to bed.
tigrette's questions
Tigrette's looking for reasons to not like Cliffy
but I tell her over and over again that what happened was an adult mental thing
and had nothing to do with her.
While Tigrette didn't tell me what Cliffy told her, she did say that Cliffy said it wasn't her or my fault but that she didn't have enough to support both me and Tigrette.
I asked Tigrette if she understood and she said yes then asked me what support meant.
I hoped Cliffy could have told her in real words, not therapeutic language.
Instead I had to tell her that some people have trouble giving so much of their energy and heart to another and that it's not necessarily a good or bad thing but that Cliffy just didn't have the capability to really commit to being there for the long-term.
Telling her that helped me a little. I feel incompetent in a lot of ways. I should have known she had this defect. In some ways, my inability to get a response from her when I was sick or my back hurt, even in the beginning of our relationship, should have told me that she had to be in the center.
I grew up in a house where the center/centering person was the one who gave the most and held the idea of family - someone who ensured we all worked the mission statement. In hers, apparently, the centered person is the person with male energy within a dichotomous world.
Cliffy talked about wanting true equality in her relationship but I think she freaked when I didn't take the lead in the way we worked our lives. I left a lot up to her in the mental sphere and let her have her masculine role. I actively did not make choices which would have her be someplace she didn't want to be or doing something she didn't want to do. I deferred, not from some butch/femme mystique, but because I like to work the quiet and detail-oriented aspects of a relationship.
Cliffy's changed me. Inside me, I had again put aside the potential/the vision/the full expression of my capabilities because she could sleep for hours on end, then get up and watch tv, already knowing dinner would be ready. Because she didn't like her job most days but wouldn't look for another. Because she would never leave this town.
I don't want to be held down.
When Cliffy and I got together, we talked about supporting each other. She even suggested that, if my writing had me going somewhere else in the country, she could be supportive and be a parent to Tigrette. She even called her "my daughter" to her co-workers and told me that Tigrette was acting more and more like her. Inside, however, there was always this delay in me - that she might leave or, on a daily basis, that she might feel too sick or achy to give attention to Tigrette. She might choose tv over my child. As a mother, I rarely am able to choose anything over my child, no matter how achy or sick or flustered.
On New Year's Eve, Tigrette and I sat on the patio and watched some fireworks. As it got cold, we came in for hot chocolate and we talked as she sat on my lap. That was the first time in a long time that I've felt calm. Despite Cliffy's quiet demeanor, she always carried this look on her face, like she might run.
How do you explain that to a child? How do you explain fifty years of behavior that makes you loved by many but loving few?
but I tell her over and over again that what happened was an adult mental thing
and had nothing to do with her.
While Tigrette didn't tell me what Cliffy told her, she did say that Cliffy said it wasn't her or my fault but that she didn't have enough to support both me and Tigrette.
I asked Tigrette if she understood and she said yes then asked me what support meant.
I hoped Cliffy could have told her in real words, not therapeutic language.
Instead I had to tell her that some people have trouble giving so much of their energy and heart to another and that it's not necessarily a good or bad thing but that Cliffy just didn't have the capability to really commit to being there for the long-term.
Telling her that helped me a little. I feel incompetent in a lot of ways. I should have known she had this defect. In some ways, my inability to get a response from her when I was sick or my back hurt, even in the beginning of our relationship, should have told me that she had to be in the center.
I grew up in a house where the center/centering person was the one who gave the most and held the idea of family - someone who ensured we all worked the mission statement. In hers, apparently, the centered person is the person with male energy within a dichotomous world.
Cliffy talked about wanting true equality in her relationship but I think she freaked when I didn't take the lead in the way we worked our lives. I left a lot up to her in the mental sphere and let her have her masculine role. I actively did not make choices which would have her be someplace she didn't want to be or doing something she didn't want to do. I deferred, not from some butch/femme mystique, but because I like to work the quiet and detail-oriented aspects of a relationship.
Cliffy's changed me. Inside me, I had again put aside the potential/the vision/the full expression of my capabilities because she could sleep for hours on end, then get up and watch tv, already knowing dinner would be ready. Because she didn't like her job most days but wouldn't look for another. Because she would never leave this town.
I don't want to be held down.
When Cliffy and I got together, we talked about supporting each other. She even suggested that, if my writing had me going somewhere else in the country, she could be supportive and be a parent to Tigrette. She even called her "my daughter" to her co-workers and told me that Tigrette was acting more and more like her. Inside, however, there was always this delay in me - that she might leave or, on a daily basis, that she might feel too sick or achy to give attention to Tigrette. She might choose tv over my child. As a mother, I rarely am able to choose anything over my child, no matter how achy or sick or flustered.
On New Year's Eve, Tigrette and I sat on the patio and watched some fireworks. As it got cold, we came in for hot chocolate and we talked as she sat on my lap. That was the first time in a long time that I've felt calm. Despite Cliffy's quiet demeanor, she always carried this look on her face, like she might run.
How do you explain that to a child? How do you explain fifty years of behavior that makes you loved by many but loving few?
Monday, January 02, 2006
heart
it's hard to write today.
I sent lots of resumes out - Murphy's law that suddenly there are plenty of jobs opening up. I'll keep telling myself it's that the holidays are over and people get back to business.
Tigrette left today and cried so much. I had a hard time holding back my face and just told her to let it out. Everything always tells us not to cry - I didn't want her censoring herself.
Not just because of Tigrette though : my heart or some unspecified ceramic bowl behind my heart is aching. I feel my chest contract and can't stretch the pain out. I actually would love to sleep on someone's couch, far away from this apartment.
It felt wider once Cliffy moved her stuff out but this morning, with my baby gone, the spirit of it is gone and the walls are so incredibly tall.
I sent lots of resumes out - Murphy's law that suddenly there are plenty of jobs opening up. I'll keep telling myself it's that the holidays are over and people get back to business.
Tigrette left today and cried so much. I had a hard time holding back my face and just told her to let it out. Everything always tells us not to cry - I didn't want her censoring herself.
Not just because of Tigrette though : my heart or some unspecified ceramic bowl behind my heart is aching. I feel my chest contract and can't stretch the pain out. I actually would love to sleep on someone's couch, far away from this apartment.
It felt wider once Cliffy moved her stuff out but this morning, with my baby gone, the spirit of it is gone and the walls are so incredibly tall.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
resolve
I never do resolutions but I'm going to now:
1. live healthier (around healthier people, with healthier food, in healthy environments)
2. devour knowledge that's new too me. there's a long list of things I want to just pick up and make my own
3. live in my body - truly enjoy and be present (I used to struggle with this more but have felt it creeping up in me in the last month or so)
4. fuck this city - just move on. there's so little in this city that is awe-inspiring or tangible - why am I here?
5. write, really write. I want to be like those people who win awards and everyone in the so-called "arts" community is saying who is that? and it becomes obvious that the "arts" community is not much more than a clique.
I had a strange day. Cliffy left today. I actually felt good about it. Truly, why would I want to be with someone who couldn't support me and keep herself strong and actually communicate with me? It's hard to do but, maybe because I work at it or maybe because I'm a mother, I still try to do all those things. I spoke with a friend of mine, Love Joy, about what was going on and she told me, straight up, that Cliffy was wrong in the way she behaved. I know she doesn't know Cliffy and so, of course, she's on my side, but it meant a lot that I wasn't the sole voice in my head saying that the way she behaved was inappropriate.
Worse in all this is Cliffy's inability to even talk at a time when she is supposedly clear on what she needs to do. I asked her, in turning the shoes the other way, if she would have left me if she'd become sick or lost her job or had some crisis. Would she so quickly say "It's not fair to you that I be here - maybe I need to leave rather than you support me through this stress"? Of course not.
I revert to my earlier truths : I don't need a traditional relationship (if at all at this point). Rather, I need someone who will truly engage and be open, available and committed. Committed meaning the understanding that everything takes work and compromise.
One thing for sure : I won't be silent this time around when people tell me how good Cliffy is. Yes, she looks good and she says the right things and she openly hugs and offers herself - as long as you don't actually take her on that offer. She played me, lied to me, refused to be clear, sat with me pretending we were okay. She cannot open herself up a little, cannot commit fully even to her own goals let alone to the idea of family as defined by queers. She can't even call her own friends unless she needs to unload. She remains aloof. She wants someone to care for her - someone who doesn't need any care. I won't be La Mala here - I'm tired of playing that role in this fucking town.
She's left me in a worse place than even those who have been verbally abusive to me had left me - because she's quiet and can so clearly see her own side. I knew our relationship wasn't completely even but I didn't think she would give up so quickly. I thought her promise to truly be there with me meant something. She left me not trusting anyone, not even trusting my own ability to choose a good partner or trust my own instincts.
What was bad is that Cliffy's leaving affects Tigrette's future as well as mine. We were completely enmeshed - we three. I don't know where I'll be in one month if I don't find work. Unlike Cliffy, my friends are just as poor as I am and they see me more for who I am, not some idealized image of me that withstands because Cliffy doesn't commit a whole hell of a lot to anyone. So, I could be homeless and with my daughter. I am not trying for a guilt trip. It does burn me, however, that Cliffy can't talk to work something out to such a degree that her decision affects so much. Last time she left me it was mostly my heart and head that ached. This time, I feel the ache even in my belly and I see the pain in my daughter's face. Like she needed any more change.
I told Tigrette I'd have to move her to the nearby school instead of the school she was in this past semester because, with us living far South, I can't afford the time or gas to get her to school 20 minutes away. Cliffy, working near Tigrette's school, would take her in the a.m. Tigrette was incredibly hurt.
But as I thought about it more, I called my mother and asked her to take the little one for a semester in San Anto. If I don't find something here before month's end, I'd end up there anyway, you know?
Cliffy, for some reason only known to her, tried to play like she was still considering staying as a family when, last night, she offered we meet up with two great pals of mine. Yo, toda pendeja, les llamo - I completely bought that she was trying. This morning I had to cancel our gathering. Who thinks to commit themselves to even a simple gathering? What was it Cliffy? It wasn't enough that you hurt me with your inability to keep a promise? You had to also give me false hope with this ridiculous offer? Why have me make this call at all. In fact, why not pack up that very day, when you came home instead of sit in front of the tv and say nothing for hours, then eat dinner, watch more tv, tell me you were going to leave then go back to watch more tv and then sleep in the bed next to me? Cliffy, you did this last time too - you could have at least been original.
Once Tigrette and I had planned out when she would be going to San Anto, we called those friends back and they were so great in reminding me both how blessed I am to have the little one and how blessed to have access to people who know and support me, even if I can count them on one hand.
We went to lunch and played a game of Cadoo that had us laughing out loud. I still have to work out plenty in my head and had to stop myself from crying any more in front of Tigrette. We got home, packed some of her things and had dinner then watched the fireworks as we sat on the porch with some hot chocolate. I am always amazed (but shouldn't be any more) at how she can tell me, with such an open heart and with such clarity, that she loves me and will miss me but knows that we'll be okay. She asked me why our family was only two people but said that it was still family. I've taught her something, huh? - taught her what I had to fight so hard to make in my own heart and life. There are some adults who still don't understand this.
1. live healthier (around healthier people, with healthier food, in healthy environments)
2. devour knowledge that's new too me. there's a long list of things I want to just pick up and make my own
3. live in my body - truly enjoy and be present (I used to struggle with this more but have felt it creeping up in me in the last month or so)
4. fuck this city - just move on. there's so little in this city that is awe-inspiring or tangible - why am I here?
5. write, really write. I want to be like those people who win awards and everyone in the so-called "arts" community is saying who is that? and it becomes obvious that the "arts" community is not much more than a clique.
I had a strange day. Cliffy left today. I actually felt good about it. Truly, why would I want to be with someone who couldn't support me and keep herself strong and actually communicate with me? It's hard to do but, maybe because I work at it or maybe because I'm a mother, I still try to do all those things. I spoke with a friend of mine, Love Joy, about what was going on and she told me, straight up, that Cliffy was wrong in the way she behaved. I know she doesn't know Cliffy and so, of course, she's on my side, but it meant a lot that I wasn't the sole voice in my head saying that the way she behaved was inappropriate.
Worse in all this is Cliffy's inability to even talk at a time when she is supposedly clear on what she needs to do. I asked her, in turning the shoes the other way, if she would have left me if she'd become sick or lost her job or had some crisis. Would she so quickly say "It's not fair to you that I be here - maybe I need to leave rather than you support me through this stress"? Of course not.
I revert to my earlier truths : I don't need a traditional relationship (if at all at this point). Rather, I need someone who will truly engage and be open, available and committed. Committed meaning the understanding that everything takes work and compromise.
One thing for sure : I won't be silent this time around when people tell me how good Cliffy is. Yes, she looks good and she says the right things and she openly hugs and offers herself - as long as you don't actually take her on that offer. She played me, lied to me, refused to be clear, sat with me pretending we were okay. She cannot open herself up a little, cannot commit fully even to her own goals let alone to the idea of family as defined by queers. She can't even call her own friends unless she needs to unload. She remains aloof. She wants someone to care for her - someone who doesn't need any care. I won't be La Mala here - I'm tired of playing that role in this fucking town.
She's left me in a worse place than even those who have been verbally abusive to me had left me - because she's quiet and can so clearly see her own side. I knew our relationship wasn't completely even but I didn't think she would give up so quickly. I thought her promise to truly be there with me meant something. She left me not trusting anyone, not even trusting my own ability to choose a good partner or trust my own instincts.
What was bad is that Cliffy's leaving affects Tigrette's future as well as mine. We were completely enmeshed - we three. I don't know where I'll be in one month if I don't find work. Unlike Cliffy, my friends are just as poor as I am and they see me more for who I am, not some idealized image of me that withstands because Cliffy doesn't commit a whole hell of a lot to anyone. So, I could be homeless and with my daughter. I am not trying for a guilt trip. It does burn me, however, that Cliffy can't talk to work something out to such a degree that her decision affects so much. Last time she left me it was mostly my heart and head that ached. This time, I feel the ache even in my belly and I see the pain in my daughter's face. Like she needed any more change.
I told Tigrette I'd have to move her to the nearby school instead of the school she was in this past semester because, with us living far South, I can't afford the time or gas to get her to school 20 minutes away. Cliffy, working near Tigrette's school, would take her in the a.m. Tigrette was incredibly hurt.
But as I thought about it more, I called my mother and asked her to take the little one for a semester in San Anto. If I don't find something here before month's end, I'd end up there anyway, you know?
Cliffy, for some reason only known to her, tried to play like she was still considering staying as a family when, last night, she offered we meet up with two great pals of mine. Yo, toda pendeja, les llamo - I completely bought that she was trying. This morning I had to cancel our gathering. Who thinks to commit themselves to even a simple gathering? What was it Cliffy? It wasn't enough that you hurt me with your inability to keep a promise? You had to also give me false hope with this ridiculous offer? Why have me make this call at all. In fact, why not pack up that very day, when you came home instead of sit in front of the tv and say nothing for hours, then eat dinner, watch more tv, tell me you were going to leave then go back to watch more tv and then sleep in the bed next to me? Cliffy, you did this last time too - you could have at least been original.
Once Tigrette and I had planned out when she would be going to San Anto, we called those friends back and they were so great in reminding me both how blessed I am to have the little one and how blessed to have access to people who know and support me, even if I can count them on one hand.
We went to lunch and played a game of Cadoo that had us laughing out loud. I still have to work out plenty in my head and had to stop myself from crying any more in front of Tigrette. We got home, packed some of her things and had dinner then watched the fireworks as we sat on the porch with some hot chocolate. I am always amazed (but shouldn't be any more) at how she can tell me, with such an open heart and with such clarity, that she loves me and will miss me but knows that we'll be okay. She asked me why our family was only two people but said that it was still family. I've taught her something, huh? - taught her what I had to fight so hard to make in my own heart and life. There are some adults who still don't understand this.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
a new year
it's been a few weeks since I've written anything.
it's actually been several weeks since I've felt like writing anything.
curiously, I moved into the apartment and ended up with a rash that usually shows up when I am stressed. true enough, work's been hell with changes. not intolerable but it's easily visible that lines are being drawn and friends help friends.
the rash finally gone I realized my writing was at a change and needed some time to come together again. I feel like I'm in the first few months of pregnancy, and am starting to feel the flutter like butterfly wings inside my center now.
this month of quiet has been unique, magic and calming:
tigrette's learning an incredible amount of sign language at school
and she can laugh about looking like a boy sometimes, especially now that her hair is even shorter, and sometimes, the way she looks at me, reminds me of a picture of my great great grandfather, a mulatto french man who moved to Cuba, with wild, kinky hair and intense eyes;
cliffy and I are coming together
and things like grocery shopping aren't chores so much as they are the opportunity to provide some softness to my family;
the apartment is all lived in already but still fresh, a real opportunity to grow;
we have a new hamster, puffy, who has the same boitel attitude all the rest of the family has;
I've strengthened my friendships, in some cases finding friends again, and claimed them as family.
there's a lot more but some moments of growth and change are so subtle, I would have no appropriate word to show the movement they provoked in me.
today is my birthday and cliffy gave me a gift last night that I didn't want to open until this morning. at 1 a.m. I couldn't sleep so I got up for some water and opened the present. you know, I've been accused of holding back on letting people see me. I didn't expect any present at all except a handmade card from Delhi and some great emails from friends.
a gift from cliffy was incredibly sweet and she chose these things that were so exactly right for me. it makes me feel good that she sees me. in particular, she bought me a cute red and purple ceramic heart with the word "create" on it. there I was, all crying, just holding that heart.
cliffy thinks I'm not writing because of work. I can't disagree with her but I do know that my writing is present, is with me - just quietly sleeping, a small group of petals promising an entire landscape.
it's actually been several weeks since I've felt like writing anything.
curiously, I moved into the apartment and ended up with a rash that usually shows up when I am stressed. true enough, work's been hell with changes. not intolerable but it's easily visible that lines are being drawn and friends help friends.
the rash finally gone I realized my writing was at a change and needed some time to come together again. I feel like I'm in the first few months of pregnancy, and am starting to feel the flutter like butterfly wings inside my center now.
this month of quiet has been unique, magic and calming:
tigrette's learning an incredible amount of sign language at school
and she can laugh about looking like a boy sometimes, especially now that her hair is even shorter, and sometimes, the way she looks at me, reminds me of a picture of my great great grandfather, a mulatto french man who moved to Cuba, with wild, kinky hair and intense eyes;
cliffy and I are coming together
and things like grocery shopping aren't chores so much as they are the opportunity to provide some softness to my family;
the apartment is all lived in already but still fresh, a real opportunity to grow;
we have a new hamster, puffy, who has the same boitel attitude all the rest of the family has;
I've strengthened my friendships, in some cases finding friends again, and claimed them as family.
there's a lot more but some moments of growth and change are so subtle, I would have no appropriate word to show the movement they provoked in me.
today is my birthday and cliffy gave me a gift last night that I didn't want to open until this morning. at 1 a.m. I couldn't sleep so I got up for some water and opened the present. you know, I've been accused of holding back on letting people see me. I didn't expect any present at all except a handmade card from Delhi and some great emails from friends.
a gift from cliffy was incredibly sweet and she chose these things that were so exactly right for me. it makes me feel good that she sees me. in particular, she bought me a cute red and purple ceramic heart with the word "create" on it. there I was, all crying, just holding that heart.
cliffy thinks I'm not writing because of work. I can't disagree with her but I do know that my writing is present, is with me - just quietly sleeping, a small group of petals promising an entire landscape.
Friday, June 10, 2005
privacy/life/changes
Part of why I started this blog was to find the strength in my voice. Part was to process without killing off my friends with my constant search for answers to the changes happening at the time. Part, yes, was ego.
While I've been busy with gay pride and other work duties, and the JAMS Spread fundraiser really kicked my butt but I'm feeling good. The lack of writing isn't entirely because of these issues. I've been truly living it and so I haven't wanted to stop, analyze and put down my well-planned thoughts. I wanted more of the living. Fuck, I deserve it.
Little Lion's at my mother's home for a couple of weeks for the summer so I've been working more to prepare for my vacation time, and working on a manuscript. I've been hanging out with someone and it's been an interesting experience but, for once, I don't want to talk about it. I'm feeling incredibly fortunate in that I've been meeting a lot of women who truly are what they say they are and give what they say they can. La Deb, in particular, has been incredibly sweet.
I appreciate the wave of good women coming around me because the last few weeks saw me dealing with Cliffy's inconsistencies and her eventual realization she's not ready for a relationship, as well as Ya Vez's newfound rose-tinted glasses. She professes change and I can support that but only after I got past the hurt of her again acting/looking/behaving like she did when we first started going out (this time for someone else) did I realize change is not the outside stuff.
I remember realizing this when she came to the house wearing some purple lacey shirt and told me she was in touch with her femme side now. That's as true as trans women saying they are women (within societal contexts) - no, I'm not dissing the women but you don't become a woman (or a femme) overnight - that's true for genetic women too. It's culture/persona/spirit that must signify our identifiers and the change is slow. Ya Vez looked a little like a drag performer wearing that lace and it's because, beneath that, she was still the power-dominant person. A friend of mine told me long ago that she isn't lesbian - she's an agressor.
Last night was Fandango, the pride dance allgo hosts and there was so much gorgeousness. Besides that, Cliffy showed. While I can't say she can't attend, it seemed the cosmos was asking for a bump-in-to because I actually bumped in to her and said excuse me before realizing it was her. I was going to walk away after saying hello but thought it was rude to do so. It was difficult to see her because I feel like I want to tell her something but can't even imagine what words would come and what those words might be.
All in all, my writing is again moving. Mostly, it's processing stuff so it's not all good - it makes me happy to be writing it, nonetheless.
The dance was great - all the jotos rejoicing make my work worth it - but there was also racism - lots of white boys came in and, in finding out they had to pay for a dance, wanted to know who it benefitted. Once told, most of them left. Others haggled over shirts/not wanting to pay full price or claimed sponsorship and wanted freebies or just walked around subjectively inspecting. It's interesting to see how it feels every time allgo does some sort of larger event meant to address the general gay community - it's not selling out but it is feeling less secure. We are out there for mainstream gay consumption and, somehow, exoticized even more.
While I've been busy with gay pride and other work duties, and the JAMS Spread fundraiser really kicked my butt but I'm feeling good. The lack of writing isn't entirely because of these issues. I've been truly living it and so I haven't wanted to stop, analyze and put down my well-planned thoughts. I wanted more of the living. Fuck, I deserve it.
Little Lion's at my mother's home for a couple of weeks for the summer so I've been working more to prepare for my vacation time, and working on a manuscript. I've been hanging out with someone and it's been an interesting experience but, for once, I don't want to talk about it. I'm feeling incredibly fortunate in that I've been meeting a lot of women who truly are what they say they are and give what they say they can. La Deb, in particular, has been incredibly sweet.
I appreciate the wave of good women coming around me because the last few weeks saw me dealing with Cliffy's inconsistencies and her eventual realization she's not ready for a relationship, as well as Ya Vez's newfound rose-tinted glasses. She professes change and I can support that but only after I got past the hurt of her again acting/looking/behaving like she did when we first started going out (this time for someone else) did I realize change is not the outside stuff.
I remember realizing this when she came to the house wearing some purple lacey shirt and told me she was in touch with her femme side now. That's as true as trans women saying they are women (within societal contexts) - no, I'm not dissing the women but you don't become a woman (or a femme) overnight - that's true for genetic women too. It's culture/persona/spirit that must signify our identifiers and the change is slow. Ya Vez looked a little like a drag performer wearing that lace and it's because, beneath that, she was still the power-dominant person. A friend of mine told me long ago that she isn't lesbian - she's an agressor.
Last night was Fandango, the pride dance allgo hosts and there was so much gorgeousness. Besides that, Cliffy showed. While I can't say she can't attend, it seemed the cosmos was asking for a bump-in-to because I actually bumped in to her and said excuse me before realizing it was her. I was going to walk away after saying hello but thought it was rude to do so. It was difficult to see her because I feel like I want to tell her something but can't even imagine what words would come and what those words might be.
All in all, my writing is again moving. Mostly, it's processing stuff so it's not all good - it makes me happy to be writing it, nonetheless.
The dance was great - all the jotos rejoicing make my work worth it - but there was also racism - lots of white boys came in and, in finding out they had to pay for a dance, wanted to know who it benefitted. Once told, most of them left. Others haggled over shirts/not wanting to pay full price or claimed sponsorship and wanted freebies or just walked around subjectively inspecting. It's interesting to see how it feels every time allgo does some sort of larger event meant to address the general gay community - it's not selling out but it is feeling less secure. We are out there for mainstream gay consumption and, somehow, exoticized even more.
Friday, May 27, 2005
all my talk
all my talk about la querida syndrome and feeling less than
and all I wanted to do today was call Cliffy
I think about her, have to acknowledge that, and as I sat at the movies and mcdonald's and ruta maya with Little Lion and her best friend, I wrote these small poems to her, like this one fragment:
forget what I said
forgive that moment of strength
when I said you weren't enough
instead give me the nod you do
when you want me to follow you to bed
that nod and I'd already be waiting
and all I wanted to do today was call Cliffy
I think about her, have to acknowledge that, and as I sat at the movies and mcdonald's and ruta maya with Little Lion and her best friend, I wrote these small poems to her, like this one fragment:
forget what I said
forgive that moment of strength
when I said you weren't enough
instead give me the nod you do
when you want me to follow you to bed
that nod and I'd already be waiting
la querida syndrome
Overall, it's best Cliffy and I end our doll house scenario because she assumed what it was I wanted. When what I want is community and a relationship needn't look like all the others - carbon copies of straight marriage.
I can't see myself playing "la querida", that figure in latino culture that makes the world go round. The one the male/masculine goes to when they need some loving and little trouble. I realize, in seeing my own daughter play with her girl friends that butch/femme is natural. It's the ideas attributed to those identifiers which create unequal scenarios. Better to search for equal relationships built on sexual connection. I don't feel like playing house, bringing meals to my butch and rubbing her feet when she's tired. Damned if I'm not tired too.
---
I get frustrated with women who, because of the way we are placed/viewed in this society, we must forget out own drives and follow some dominant idea. I get more frustrated when it's women I care about and love, who cannot do what they need to do for themselves. Who spend their life waiting to start life.
There is some old white guy who talked about the craft of writing - he said that we practice our work over and over again waiting for the theatre curtain to come up only to realize it's been up all along.
I can't see myself playing "la querida", that figure in latino culture that makes the world go round. The one the male/masculine goes to when they need some loving and little trouble. I realize, in seeing my own daughter play with her girl friends that butch/femme is natural. It's the ideas attributed to those identifiers which create unequal scenarios. Better to search for equal relationships built on sexual connection. I don't feel like playing house, bringing meals to my butch and rubbing her feet when she's tired. Damned if I'm not tired too.
---
I get frustrated with women who, because of the way we are placed/viewed in this society, we must forget out own drives and follow some dominant idea. I get more frustrated when it's women I care about and love, who cannot do what they need to do for themselves. Who spend their life waiting to start life.
There is some old white guy who talked about the craft of writing - he said that we practice our work over and over again waiting for the theatre curtain to come up only to realize it's been up all along.
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