For some, hair is not a big deal. You get it cut short if you are a boy, trim the ends if you are a girl. Keep your hair as long as possible. Doing this ensures that it can be pulled up, or blown dry in a beautiful way. This is what girls are supposed to do. When I got older and became: 1.) A feminist and 2.) A lesbian, I decided that chopping off my hair would be a statement of my rejection of feminine ideals and would symbolize also, my ability to be sexy without my hair. For people who have known me a long time, they will attest to the fact that my hair has been every length, color, (including shaved, past my shoulders, pink, and now streaked with teal. It has always just been hair to me.
Last summer I began growing my hair. I wanted it to be long enough to put into a pony tail. So I barely cut it for about a year, which is quite the feat for me. It was rather long but also very bushy and dry. I began to get the itch to want to cut it. My friend buzzed her head and I remembered that liberating feeling of not worrying about my hair. Also, in many ways, my hair, wen it was shaved was one of the times I actually felt the most sexy. However, a portion of this came from feeling the urge to wear more eyeliner/makeup, huge earrings, etc.
Something I have discovered about myself: although I am a femme, I am a very low-maintenance femme and find a lot of peace in simplicity and not needing a lot of things, wearing a lot of makeup or expensive things. Part of me feels this because grad school is exhausting and I just cannot devote that much attention to myself and my appearance.
So I decided to cut my hair. This decision was a process in itself and caused several fights among the lady and me. So much anxiety even in writing this about getting rid of something as simple, yet complex as hair. To me, hair is rhetorical. It makes an argument for a certain kind of politics, reflects values, and is ideological. Basically: Hair Matters. It is raced, classed, gendered, reflects sexuality, religion, ethnicity etc. Cutting my hair short means changing the way people might view me, especially in terms of my sexuality. Will having short hair make me more obvious in terms of being outed about being queer? Is this even a bad thing? No, but is that what I want? To me, it is more than hair. It is an identity marker. And although I have never been attached to hair very much before, this whole process makes me realize how big of a deal all of this is to me.
My hair was very thick and hot and I felt like I needed something new. So I cut it. Not pixie-ish, but basically, the Victoria Beckham bob. Then I went camping and didn't see it in a mirror for two days. Coming home, washing, and styling it...I was excited. And the reveal. Argh. First of all: the two sides do not look the same. The left is longer and less blended than the right. So it isn't perfect, but that's what happens when you pay $20 for a haircut. I don't really feel hot anymore, it feels more like Kathryn has, "cute" hair, not hot and sexy hair. However, even from just sitting here typing this, I am beginning to like it more and more. But it is different, it is imperfect, and it is still sort of painful.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
It's true, I'm bored
Alright, alright, alright. Two posts in one day? Really? REALLY? Yes, really. Ma'lady is on a business trip and I am home alone, which is fine. I don't mind being alone, it is just different than what I am used to. During the school year I am generally surrounded by people-colleagues, office-mates, students, professors and the multitude of people that pass in and out of my life (through yoga, my family, Yogurtland/Pinkberry, roommates etc.)
So when I am alone I do crazy things-like obsessively watch television. And that is where my blog post stems from...Hoarders. I know for anyone who has followed me on the FB that I have been watching this show. The first time I saw it, I almost threw up. I just couldn't imagine how anyone could live like that, especially in the homes that were just so filthy and disgusted. I became intrigued. I watched as many episodes as possible on HULU and A&E. I watched as so many opened their doors to camera crews, therapists, organizers, their families (many of the family members hadn't been in the houses for several years) and many others. The show is designed to target a hoarder and get them help for their problem. The problem being, they have too much stuff and their homes are no longer usable. What fascinated me most were the people who could no longer live in their homes and were living in motels, shelters, a tent etc. I mean how could someone's house me so full of stuff that they can no longer live inside it? I mean with so many not having homes, having one that can't be used, flabbergasted me.
Of course these are very Western and white standards of normalcy and upkeep of the home. As I continued watching, I became increasingly irritated with the psychologists and therapists who came into the homes of the "hoarders." Not that I don't think hoarding is an issue, it obviously takes a toll on people, their relationships, and their families. As people get older they cannot navigate their piles so it becomes a hazard. For small children, they were born into the hoard and their motor skills aren't strong enough to move around and they need places to play, so the hoard is a definite problem.
But, what is most fascinating, was my reaction. Ma'lady could tell you, my house became immediately organized. I became freaked out that my sometimes mess could turn into a definite hoard, which now I don't think it could have, I am really not that messy of a person. For some reason the show made an impact on me and I think some of this might come from the fact that I think I was living in a sorta hoarda in EP. My stepfather was a definite hoarder-he never threw anything away; this left my mother with a tremendous amount of stress upon his passing. But also, in my former relationship, we always had one room (or loft) that was just full of stuff. Upon retrieving my last load of stuff, I realized how bad it had really gotten. I don't know that either she or I were "hoarders" because the rest of the house was not bad, and my new house is spic-and-span pretty much all the time, but I think we had the tendencies that I am so glad to be out of.
I actually do not have a lot of attachment to things. What I would be sad if I lost: My great great grandmother's earrings, my grandma's locket, my step father's pocket watch, my books, and a couple of clothing items. Other than that, I do not have a lot of sentimentality for objects and actually really do not like knick-knacks and little things and am glad to not have a bunch of things. I rarely took physical photos, and the few I have are either neatly displayed or packed up in boxes. I just wonder how I let the room get so bad and if it was me? what I have sort of concluded is that I think for a while I did have a problem with buying too many things, a full-blown shopping addiction-no, I couldn't afford that, but I just bought too many things I didn't have space for. I have always lived in small places, but finally have a storage unit and enough closet space for all my things and it feels really nice. I don't buy things I don't need and I rarely buy any new clothes-they come from the thrift store when they come, which isn't too often.
Hoarders just made me more self-aware about my personal space and enjoying it being organized and clean. I think I had kind of been waiting for my grown-up person gene to kick in (not that I was so messy or dirty), but I think I was waiting for my desire to love cleaning and organization to set in and it just wasn't. I thought I just didn't value that in my life. What I really think, it took me some time, a different living environment, and a desire to want to enjoy where I live-and wanting that space to be a certain way. Anywho, thanks Hoarders for showing me what I do not want to be.
So when I am alone I do crazy things-like obsessively watch television. And that is where my blog post stems from...Hoarders. I know for anyone who has followed me on the FB that I have been watching this show. The first time I saw it, I almost threw up. I just couldn't imagine how anyone could live like that, especially in the homes that were just so filthy and disgusted. I became intrigued. I watched as many episodes as possible on HULU and A&E. I watched as so many opened their doors to camera crews, therapists, organizers, their families (many of the family members hadn't been in the houses for several years) and many others. The show is designed to target a hoarder and get them help for their problem. The problem being, they have too much stuff and their homes are no longer usable. What fascinated me most were the people who could no longer live in their homes and were living in motels, shelters, a tent etc. I mean how could someone's house me so full of stuff that they can no longer live inside it? I mean with so many not having homes, having one that can't be used, flabbergasted me.
Of course these are very Western and white standards of normalcy and upkeep of the home. As I continued watching, I became increasingly irritated with the psychologists and therapists who came into the homes of the "hoarders." Not that I don't think hoarding is an issue, it obviously takes a toll on people, their relationships, and their families. As people get older they cannot navigate their piles so it becomes a hazard. For small children, they were born into the hoard and their motor skills aren't strong enough to move around and they need places to play, so the hoard is a definite problem.
But, what is most fascinating, was my reaction. Ma'lady could tell you, my house became immediately organized. I became freaked out that my sometimes mess could turn into a definite hoard, which now I don't think it could have, I am really not that messy of a person. For some reason the show made an impact on me and I think some of this might come from the fact that I think I was living in a sorta hoarda in EP. My stepfather was a definite hoarder-he never threw anything away; this left my mother with a tremendous amount of stress upon his passing. But also, in my former relationship, we always had one room (or loft) that was just full of stuff. Upon retrieving my last load of stuff, I realized how bad it had really gotten. I don't know that either she or I were "hoarders" because the rest of the house was not bad, and my new house is spic-and-span pretty much all the time, but I think we had the tendencies that I am so glad to be out of.
I actually do not have a lot of attachment to things. What I would be sad if I lost: My great great grandmother's earrings, my grandma's locket, my step father's pocket watch, my books, and a couple of clothing items. Other than that, I do not have a lot of sentimentality for objects and actually really do not like knick-knacks and little things and am glad to not have a bunch of things. I rarely took physical photos, and the few I have are either neatly displayed or packed up in boxes. I just wonder how I let the room get so bad and if it was me? what I have sort of concluded is that I think for a while I did have a problem with buying too many things, a full-blown shopping addiction-no, I couldn't afford that, but I just bought too many things I didn't have space for. I have always lived in small places, but finally have a storage unit and enough closet space for all my things and it feels really nice. I don't buy things I don't need and I rarely buy any new clothes-they come from the thrift store when they come, which isn't too often.
Hoarders just made me more self-aware about my personal space and enjoying it being organized and clean. I think I had kind of been waiting for my grown-up person gene to kick in (not that I was so messy or dirty), but I think I was waiting for my desire to love cleaning and organization to set in and it just wasn't. I thought I just didn't value that in my life. What I really think, it took me some time, a different living environment, and a desire to want to enjoy where I live-and wanting that space to be a certain way. Anywho, thanks Hoarders for showing me what I do not want to be.
I found this poem
My friend from college sent me this poem a few years ago. I sought about looking for it today after realizing something about it was still lingering with me. I found it, a very easy search through my gmail does the trick pretty nicely, and have decided to post it because I a bored and have little to do right now.
you see me naked
-elyse bellamy
I told myself I would keep my distance from you
And as the noise filters in I try hard not to wake up
Our bodies making good use of this futon and an old blanket
Your indescribable hands
Tangled in my hair
The sun rises, somewhere
A smooth blue glow on the horizon
And it seeps through the window as we're falling asleep
You held an apple to my lips before I could admit that I was hungry
You left your lighter in my car before I could admit I loved you back
And it's for real now
Because I'm in some girl's living room
Bodies lining the floor from the coffee table to the door and you're
Touching my stomach and
Whispering in my ear
Situation fades to backdrop whenever you're here
Now my t-shirt is wrinkled
My eyes are red and
I left my best defenses between the sheets of that bed
I'm brushing my teeth at the sink of an unfamiliar bathroom or
Watching a stream of steam and soap spiral down the drain
My skin slippery with shampoo
Trying to pretend that I'm not waiting for you to slip in through
that door that doesn't really close and
Kiss me on the mouth while I'm standing there with
Nothing
To hide with
Nothing to hide behind
A thin layer of chapstick the only thing
Keeping me intact
I let the towel crumple at my feet and
Find my way back to where you're waiting
On the pillow
I promised myself I wouldn't write a poem about this-
Shredded paper, oil pastels, your photograph clenched in my fist
But whenever my lips graze your cheek and my fingers find themselves
tracing your jaw
The only words that ever seem to surface are those three that
I'm not supposed to I'm not supposed to I'm not supposed to be
Saying and
In the back seat
Crushing a raspberry on my tongue
You reach out and make everything taste like a shiver
Pulling me into your coat and dissolving all discomfort-
(Was I cold? Is it winter?
Come here and do your magic and it'll all come flooding back…)
In a cheap motel
Moonlight spills onto the blankets
And you're smiling at me in the darkness so I cover my face
Worried you'll stare too long and realize that I'm not what you
wanted in the first place
And I need you too much
I think I need you too much
Because I passed out listening to the songs that you gave me and
Woke up alone, curled up on my bedroom floor
Feeling homesick for your fingertips and the pockets of your jeans
Waiting for something to go so wrong that there just isn't any
solution
And I can't believe that I fought this fever for so long
Now in the parking lot,
On the sidewalk
At the bottom of the basement stairs I stand there
Wondering how long we have before someone tells me not to touch you
and
Daydreaming about the next time I can fall into your arms
I just hope you know that this is new to me
And let's not talk about worthy,
I'm still struggling to understand this flickering image of December
Let alone the fact that you seem to accept all my flaws with
Open eyes and this gentle perfection
Your palm slipping under my head just before it hits the carpet
Spilling your drink on the sleeve of my jacket
Healing me with just one look and a carefully held breath
The memory of singing for you on the other side of the room
Shaking so violently I could barely remember the words
And the way you came to me when I had finished
Raw and perfect and re-assuring in my insecurity
Turned me shy in front of your eyes
Suddenly aware that you have that kind of x-ray vision I've been
seeking
And it occurs to me that if I keep shedding my armor
I might get hurt
But at this point I'm going to risk it
And let my gaze drift to you
Because I'm sleepless and helpless and I don't know what else to do
Stumbling through midnight, somewhere in town
Holding onto each other for dear life as the rain comes down
The clock is three hours fast but
We get the idea
He beats out a rhythm from the radio on the steering wheel
Changes lanes and
Switches gears
Icy tear-drops of water slowly slide down the glass
Your seatbelt forgotten
Your head in my lap
And if I had known you would see me naked
I would've washed my hands one more time
Because it's getting so easy to feel beautiful whenever your soul
touches mine
I want to take a picture
I want to remember everything
Because tomorrow morning I'll be in a place where
Nobody understands
And your warmth hasn't left me
My thoughts are a messy collage
Of everything I'm trying so hard to keep from fading
That conversation, that dollar bill, that mistake, that massage
Swallowing sobs and this scream that threatens to escape and call
your name
The silence impacted by my passion and who-knows-how-long-it'll-be-
until-I-see-you-again
And I'm making promises
Because I want to hold it all inside
And I'm replaying all the amazing things that you said
Over the achingly insistent voice in my head
And concentrating on emotions I'm doing my best to subdue
I realize there is no distance powerful enough
To keep me
From you
you see me naked
-elyse bellamy
I told myself I would keep my distance from you
And as the noise filters in I try hard not to wake up
Our bodies making good use of this futon and an old blanket
Your indescribable hands
Tangled in my hair
The sun rises, somewhere
A smooth blue glow on the horizon
And it seeps through the window as we're falling asleep
You held an apple to my lips before I could admit that I was hungry
You left your lighter in my car before I could admit I loved you back
And it's for real now
Because I'm in some girl's living room
Bodies lining the floor from the coffee table to the door and you're
Touching my stomach and
Whispering in my ear
Situation fades to backdrop whenever you're here
Now my t-shirt is wrinkled
My eyes are red and
I left my best defenses between the sheets of that bed
I'm brushing my teeth at the sink of an unfamiliar bathroom or
Watching a stream of steam and soap spiral down the drain
My skin slippery with shampoo
Trying to pretend that I'm not waiting for you to slip in through
that door that doesn't really close and
Kiss me on the mouth while I'm standing there with
Nothing
To hide with
Nothing to hide behind
A thin layer of chapstick the only thing
Keeping me intact
I let the towel crumple at my feet and
Find my way back to where you're waiting
On the pillow
I promised myself I wouldn't write a poem about this-
Shredded paper, oil pastels, your photograph clenched in my fist
But whenever my lips graze your cheek and my fingers find themselves
tracing your jaw
The only words that ever seem to surface are those three that
I'm not supposed to I'm not supposed to I'm not supposed to be
Saying and
In the back seat
Crushing a raspberry on my tongue
You reach out and make everything taste like a shiver
Pulling me into your coat and dissolving all discomfort-
(Was I cold? Is it winter?
Come here and do your magic and it'll all come flooding back…)
In a cheap motel
Moonlight spills onto the blankets
And you're smiling at me in the darkness so I cover my face
Worried you'll stare too long and realize that I'm not what you
wanted in the first place
And I need you too much
I think I need you too much
Because I passed out listening to the songs that you gave me and
Woke up alone, curled up on my bedroom floor
Feeling homesick for your fingertips and the pockets of your jeans
Waiting for something to go so wrong that there just isn't any
solution
And I can't believe that I fought this fever for so long
Now in the parking lot,
On the sidewalk
At the bottom of the basement stairs I stand there
Wondering how long we have before someone tells me not to touch you
and
Daydreaming about the next time I can fall into your arms
I just hope you know that this is new to me
And let's not talk about worthy,
I'm still struggling to understand this flickering image of December
Let alone the fact that you seem to accept all my flaws with
Open eyes and this gentle perfection
Your palm slipping under my head just before it hits the carpet
Spilling your drink on the sleeve of my jacket
Healing me with just one look and a carefully held breath
The memory of singing for you on the other side of the room
Shaking so violently I could barely remember the words
And the way you came to me when I had finished
Raw and perfect and re-assuring in my insecurity
Turned me shy in front of your eyes
Suddenly aware that you have that kind of x-ray vision I've been
seeking
And it occurs to me that if I keep shedding my armor
I might get hurt
But at this point I'm going to risk it
And let my gaze drift to you
Because I'm sleepless and helpless and I don't know what else to do
Stumbling through midnight, somewhere in town
Holding onto each other for dear life as the rain comes down
The clock is three hours fast but
We get the idea
He beats out a rhythm from the radio on the steering wheel
Changes lanes and
Switches gears
Icy tear-drops of water slowly slide down the glass
Your seatbelt forgotten
Your head in my lap
And if I had known you would see me naked
I would've washed my hands one more time
Because it's getting so easy to feel beautiful whenever your soul
touches mine
I want to take a picture
I want to remember everything
Because tomorrow morning I'll be in a place where
Nobody understands
And your warmth hasn't left me
My thoughts are a messy collage
Of everything I'm trying so hard to keep from fading
That conversation, that dollar bill, that mistake, that massage
Swallowing sobs and this scream that threatens to escape and call
your name
The silence impacted by my passion and who-knows-how-long-it'll-be-
until-I-see-you-again
And I'm making promises
Because I want to hold it all inside
And I'm replaying all the amazing things that you said
Over the achingly insistent voice in my head
And concentrating on emotions I'm doing my best to subdue
I realize there is no distance powerful enough
To keep me
From you
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)