prude?
August 31, 2008
alright. now, let’s talk about sex.
yesterday, i wove in and out of a colorful fabric of social spaces – tossing stories, ideas, theories and world visions back and forth with a new friend – and it is those words that are sticking with me today. making me think. inspiring my muse. poking holes through assumptions in my world.
i find myself intrigued. wanting more. wanting to reach into the new world being formed between us by our words, both said and unsaid, to feel the texture of the velveteen petals of a flower resting there.
we talked of choice. our choices. the choices of others. the possibility and freedom to choose. how to use our bodies — who and what we take in…or leave out. how we learn to explore those choices through the people and objects that float in and out of our lives in the myriad moments that make up the whole. and how some of these choices have shifted into boundaries, frames or even the foundations of self-awareness.
and last night, i made a choice. i made a choice to say no. to sex. for now. and this is new. a first. granted, not the first time i said no to sex…but rather, the first time i said no to sex when i really wanted it. the first time i chose to step back from the ledge of desire, bow in thanks to the gods…and walk away.
i made the choice to readjust a pattern i have lived with for years. a pattern that does not serve me…or anyone else. i made the choice to live more consciously in the core of my truth. to offer myself the space to learn. to want. to stay. and i made the choice because this is someone i like. and i’m finding that i like flirting with the possibility that i won’t disappear and run away from connection and friendship — as i have so many times before.
pondering this decision today has been sounding a bit like a broken record in my head:
“wow. i said no?”
“yeah. and actually, this feels good. (smile)”
“really? i said no?”
“ah fuck, does this mean i’ve become a prude?”
(sigh)
“nah…i like sex (wicked smile)”
“wow. i said no?”
(repeat)
so to end the circularity of talking to myself (i can go on for hours like this), i decided to ask a friend her thoughts. she laughed and provided a different perspective that actually. it’s not that i’m becoming a prude. i’m just simply growing up. and choosing to relate in healthy ways with myself and with others.
hmmm.
yet, as i love language and words and meaning, i couldn’t stop there. i needed to feed my curiousity about the linguistic history of this word. i was shocked to discover that in fact, in its original form (in old french: prode) the word was exactly what my friend was describing: being wise and prudent.
fuck. maybe i am becoming a prude after all.
a dating game.
August 30, 2008
to reclaim the words of salt-n-pepa, let’s talk about sex baby. well, more precisely, let’s talk about dating. that word we all toss back and forth in everyday speech — and yet a word that really isn’t as simple to define as you’d think – given how easily it gets used.
and not surprisingly, i am far from the first to blog on this question. any simple search brings up a lot of writing that has been invested into trying to define this “thing” we all seem to do…with all the wrong people, all the right people…or just with the same person over and over again.
three years ago i got out of one of those multi-year, live-together, let’s-talk-about-kids-and-buy-a-house-together lesbionic relationships and with all the grief and healing that ensued, i have since been off focused on many other things…and dating wasn’t really one of them. nevertheless, there were a number of folks who crossed my path in fun and sexy ways…most emerging from a place some of you may be familiar with, that ubiquitous “oh, we’re having sex now. i guess we’re dating, right?”
as i found these affairs, if you will, a bit distracting and highly triggering (so much anger still to work through!) i chose to take some intentional time off from dating — or more simply put, i made a conscious decision not to get involved with anyone romantically and/or sexually. as that time has come to a close, i am now putting myself back out there — meeting new people, making new friends…and dare i say it, going on dates. but are they dates? what actually constitutes a date?
since no one i’ve asked so far seems to have the “answer”, i’ve started polling people more broadly to see if there’s something more i could learn. cuz i’m curious. and if i’m going to have fun with this dating “game”, it helps to know the rules…so i know how to break them!
so, what do you think?
i’m also curious about your thoughts about the following thread that has come up in a number of conversations:
a date is something that is much more clear and defined within straight community — but in queer community, it’s a little more muddled. or really muddled. i mean, there are entire books written on that subject! but i digress…
really, i’d love just to hear your thoughts. your stories. and hey, if you’ve got some advice, i’m all ears!
bring it on.
daydreams + that thing called feminism
August 21, 2008
all my life i have been plagued (or perhaps, entertained?) by the ability to get lost in a daydream…pretty much anytime of the day…or the night. basically, anytime i’m awake. if i don’t watch myself, i can live out a number of lives each day that bear no reflection of the waking reality outside me. so it makes me wonder, what is reality?
reality is as reality is.
my reality is only and simply my reality. it belongs to no one else…and your reality is only yours…no matter how much we try to intersect, understand and connect. we all live in, respond to, and develop expectations based on our own realities. what we think is real. what we think is actually happening around us. and yet, two people, sitting in the same place, at the same time, breathing the same air are experiencing two very different realities…because what we bring into that space is our own unique history. a well-informed storybook. memories of pain. scars. and disappointments. along with a pocketful of hopes and daydreams…
which then gets me to thinking: if all of our realities and experiences are not the same (even if we pretend to understand someone else’s situation, perspective or views of the world), then how do we manage to communicate with a language whose meaning is so subjective, at best?
i was at a dinner tonight, that i co-host each month with a friend and mentor of mine, to offer informal space to dialogue about feminism across the generations. and tonight, i realized that so much pain and miscommunication and challenge sits in the single word “feminism” or even, more personally, “feminist”. that it’s no wonder we are a segmented and uncoordinated movement. what does it mean to be a feminist? what is feminism? what was reaffirmed to me tonight was just how different all of our ideas are about what that means. one person can say one thing — and though i may agree — it’s still her idea based in the stories she holds. it doesn’t make it the definitive or last-word on the topic, and yet, can we ever get to a place where we can divest a word of painful memories, challenging associations and/or empowering epiphanies…to understand it merely as a philosophy of community wide change whose roots are in humanism and equity?
yet, i don’t think that’s possible…does that make me a cynic? perhaps. i feel strongly that it is about moving beyond the conversation about what does the word “feminism” or “feminist” mean, and really dig deep into the values and ideas and ideals we hold and fight for in our lives. that we are hoping will create more equitable realities for our lives. as we perceive them. i think it in through that level of dialogue that bridges are built, alliances are forged and trust is grown. we can all use the same language. spout the same words. but without breaking it down, deconstructing the syntax and lexicon we choose, we will forever exist in a surrealists daydream of (de)naming an apple, an apple. because image and word are not the same. object and representation are not the same. yet, the longer we hold on to words as labels. as signifiers of ideals. the more we assume that each of our realities are in fact the same…
which we have already ascertained, is, well, simply, not true.
so then, what is truth?
the flow.
August 15, 2008
how many times over the years have i heard people say to me, in either a calming or a frustrated tone, “just go with the flow!” and yet, to really just go with the flow and accept all that it brings, isn’t necessarily the easiest task at hand.
in trusting the flow of the day, of life, of the adventure before us, things happen that if we pay enough attention to, will inevitably teach us something. something we need to know. something that is relevant to our life. today.
knowing this. i am sitting here in the jfk airport, going with the flow, 15 hours after i first got here, wondering what i am supposed to learn. i have somewhere between 3 and 7 more hours here (depending on which flight i get on)…if nothing else goes awry — so perhaps the learning is still to come. and so i sit with my laptop, cross-legged atop my new suitcase, watching. learning. taking it all in. i don’t feel like i have the creative capacity to organize thoughts tonight/this morning (it is actually 3:48am…) so instead i will just share an observations or two of my jfk adventures…
1. i am surrounded by europeans, wondering why they would travel to the US for holiday…and then am quickly reminded of how the euro kicks some serious us dollar ass. i see entire families on vacation together…of course, all hitting new york and then skipping the middle of the country and journeying directly over to san francisco. there are italians. dutch. french. germans. i am reminded of the 6 months many many years ago that i traveled in europe…exploring and trying to figure out how who i was, who i wanted to be. how to be more stylish, more grown-up…basically, less american. i can’t say it necessarily worked. i found a bunch of pictures from that year recently, and it’s scarily obvious who the american girl is. nevertheless, i somehow convinced fellow travelers that i was canadian. (perhaps this is where my canadia-phile tendencies came from?) in watching so many young travelers, also experiencing the discomfort of an american airport-cum-hostel, i am reminded so much of me at 18. a whole crew of us waiting for the ferry from belgium to dover…we were all sitting in the terminal, luggage strewn around, people curled up with bags, each other, trying to get sleep. others, too amped to sleep, talking frantically with each other in a variety of languages…it’s the middle aged couple from texas that of course stands out. perhaps it’s the orange jumper the woman is wearing or the tightly cinched and pleated khaki shorts her husband sports…or simply the fact that they talk at least 6 decibels louder than anyone else there. most importantly, i am there, traveling on my own. meeting new friends. exploring new worlds. finally tasting freedom. taking bold and tentative steps in self-discovery…and remembering that always, there are moments in my life that have completely transformed me. physically jolted me onto another path…the time in belgium, france and germany that year was by far one of the key moments for me. perhaps i need to remember that for some reason…
2. or maybe this is what i’m supposed to learn (or rather, admit). i am lonely. deeply really lonely. sitting her makes me realize just how lonely i am. i want to connect. i want to actually talk to someone right now. not just in my head…or via twitter, a wonderful app that presumes friends are listening…but no, i want someone here with me. and i want it bad. i am struck with the intensity of this desire because it is not about not wanting to be alone — it is about wanting to connect with someone i love in this space. to have the friends and family networks surrounding me the ways i see it happening for everyone else (ok, maybe not everyone)…from the young italian toddler being chased around the waiting area by who i am assuming are her grandparents, to a large group of french travelers, all related, i am guessing, based on rapport and snippets of conversation i overhear…i really do miss having someone significant in my life — who i connect with — on all the mundane and huge aspects of life. i am surprised at the intensity of this desire…i have gotten so used to being on my own these past few years — especially traveling on my own. in fact, the last time i intentionally traveled with someone else, it was to southeast asia with jill. that was over 3 years ago…and traveling. i do so goddamn much of it these days — and i’m always on my own. it hasn’t really bugged me at all…until today. tonight. this morning. i don’t want to do this alone any more.
so these are 2 observations of this long wait that i offer unto you, dear reader. perhaps there will be more. perhaps instead, i will be sleeping, snuggled up and cozy in my own bed…soon, very soon, i keep telling myself. it will happen. so with that, i close my eyes and drift off…
