My friend Tim came over this evening and we lost ourselves in the familiarity of old Broadway tunes. He sat playing at my piano, an instrument that deserves better than I am usually capable of, as I stretched vocally into notes that scared the cats out of the room and sent us all into horrified (on my part) giggles. I am, clearly, rusty and no longer the clear throated 3 octave soprano I once was.
But despite the hour and most of a bottle of marvelous New York Concord wine (a wine you smell coming and makes your mouth water in the process) I am a mix of energized exhaustion. Oh the energy of friends and familiar songs!
This morning it was a lovely DC crisp autumn day. The kind of day you wait for all year long. I drive an Aquarius Blue (car talk for baby blue) VW Beetle Convertible and this morning we took it in to work, top down. We passed our friend John and then our friend Cynthia and each time exchanged waves and smiles - happy at the familiarity of friendship. Energized by the sun and the smiles.
I was reminded of a place I worked for 17 years, of a game I used to play with another friend who shares my general gregariousness (because despite being an introvert, I am gregarious.) We'd walk down the hallway and see which of us was greeted first most often. He was the editor of the internal newsletter (circulation: 15,000) and well known. I just get to know people. He loved playing this game with me because I could actually win. I loved playing the game because I love the energy found in the warmth of a familiar smile. Well, and I could beat him.
I've always thought it interesting that another use for the word "Familiar" is to describe a witch's companion, most commonly imagined as a black cat. In truth, a familiar's sole purpose is to bring extra energy to the intentions of the witch. Sort of like candle light brings energy to the intentions of someone praying in front of a church altar. Any high energy animal will do. But as the owner of two cats I understand why they might be the animal of choice.
A familiar's energy must be freely given. Sort of like the energy we give to each other when we smile and greet another warmly.
And it makes me wonder. How much more might we accomplish when we are sustained on the familiar energy of others and their good wishes for us?
Should we all practice familiarity?
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Painting Life
This morning I groggily wandered into the kitchen just in time to hear my daughter's father tell her how beautiful she looked. Her face turned up toward him as I struggled to reconcile his words with her shockingly pale face. I could feel my eyes blinking as I tried to understand what was going on and in confusion I asked my daughter if she was going to put her makeup on.
She laughed at me and said "mom, you are totally out of it" and then explained that it was picture day. Since her grandparents would be getting copies of her picture she opted not to wear any makeup.
I could feel my brain ache as I fought to understand what was happening in the kitchen. Something felt incredibly wrong about what I was seeing and hearing but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
In all fairness, I'm usually a morning person. But this morning I woke up with a pounding headache and the accompanying spinning room. This made both my daughter and her father laugh while I swore that I was not either "out of it."
But here's the deal. Last spring my daughter decided that she wanted to 'express herself' by adopting the "Emo" look. In what seemed like an overnight deal, she went from a wardrobe made up of primarily "camo" prints to black t-shirts, black eye-liner, and what has been described as "perfected complexion." She's been very proud (and committed) to this expression of herself. Since I remember wearing roach clips in my hair in the 80's (and please, anyone who lived through the fashion of the 80's has NO business criticizing today's styles), glitter eye-shadow and flourescent pink lipstick, I have good reason to believe she'll outgrow this with her self esteem intact.
And that was what was wrong with this morning. My beautiful daughter, who is perfect just as she is and just as she wants to be seen, changed because she was afraid of being judged. She believes that if her father, who loves her, disapproves of how she views herself then surely others will too.
We all paint ourselves. Sometimes it's with makeup, clothes, jewelry. Sometimes it is with where we are, what we say, or how we decorate the spaces we inhabit. We carefully choose how we show ourselves, what we let other people see, what we want other people to see. We make these choices and in these choices we are our authentic selves.
Sometimes it's in the blog templates we pick (I'm still deciding on this one.)
This mothering business isn't for the faint-hearted. And when I finish writing this I'm going to slip into my daughter's room and remind her that I love her, just exactly how she chooses to be.
She laughed at me and said "mom, you are totally out of it" and then explained that it was picture day. Since her grandparents would be getting copies of her picture she opted not to wear any makeup.
I could feel my brain ache as I fought to understand what was happening in the kitchen. Something felt incredibly wrong about what I was seeing and hearing but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
In all fairness, I'm usually a morning person. But this morning I woke up with a pounding headache and the accompanying spinning room. This made both my daughter and her father laugh while I swore that I was not either "out of it."
But here's the deal. Last spring my daughter decided that she wanted to 'express herself' by adopting the "Emo" look. In what seemed like an overnight deal, she went from a wardrobe made up of primarily "camo" prints to black t-shirts, black eye-liner, and what has been described as "perfected complexion." She's been very proud (and committed) to this expression of herself. Since I remember wearing roach clips in my hair in the 80's (and please, anyone who lived through the fashion of the 80's has NO business criticizing today's styles), glitter eye-shadow and flourescent pink lipstick, I have good reason to believe she'll outgrow this with her self esteem intact.
And that was what was wrong with this morning. My beautiful daughter, who is perfect just as she is and just as she wants to be seen, changed because she was afraid of being judged. She believes that if her father, who loves her, disapproves of how she views herself then surely others will too.
We all paint ourselves. Sometimes it's with makeup, clothes, jewelry. Sometimes it is with where we are, what we say, or how we decorate the spaces we inhabit. We carefully choose how we show ourselves, what we let other people see, what we want other people to see. We make these choices and in these choices we are our authentic selves.
Sometimes it's in the blog templates we pick (I'm still deciding on this one.)
This mothering business isn't for the faint-hearted. And when I finish writing this I'm going to slip into my daughter's room and remind her that I love her, just exactly how she chooses to be.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
A Racial Race...Seriously?
I read a "news" article recently that said that 1/3 of white women who identify themselves at Democrats did not want to vote for a black man for President.
What?
First, I'm not planning on voting for Barack Obama this year and the color of his skin has nothing to do with it. If Colin Powell were running, he'd have my vote. If Michael Steele were running, he'd have my vote. Both of these men have demonstrated to me, in different ways and under different circumstances, the qualities that I personally look for in a US President.
That said, I understand that there are some people for whom race does matter. I met some of them when I was in Texas last spring helping the campaign efforts for a candidate who is no longer among the contenders for the 2009-2013 Administration. I heard it. I shrugged it off as a "to each his or her own." In my book things balance out and besides, at least twice as many people told me that they were being told, in their churches, by their families, by their communities, to vote unified...to vote black.
I understand that the color of a candidate's skin might still figure into a Presidential vote. I also understand that the anatomical plumbing of a candidate (precisely, the presence or absence of a penis) might play into the decision making process of some. So does eye-color, the kind of clothes they wear, the timber of their voice. Some people *do* actually vote for a candidate based on nothing more than the alphabetical order of the person on the ballet box. This is America. We can't help the fact that yes, some people do just vote stupid.
What I want to know is this: Are the same pollsters who are trying to make this race about...well...race, asking how many African Americans are being encouraged to vote "black."
Why is it suddenly so important to dissect the white American woman? The last time anyone was this interested in what we thought as a group - well - they were trying to sell tampons, laundry detergent, and about 3,671 other kinds of cleaning products in general. We're used to being a "target audience" - we've been that ever since the advertisers figured out who does most of the household shopping.
But until recently, we haven't been that interesting as a political voice. And neither campaign is singing the songs about issues I care about. So let me make it easy:
I don't vote because I'm a white woman. I vote because I'm an American and it isn't my right...it's my responsibility. It's a responsibility because people through the generations have sacrificed beyond measure so that my voice is heard. It is my responsibility to be smart about my decisions. Not to let heresay or brute force think for me.
So if you are one of the people making this race about race...or gender...do us all a favor and stay home. You ARE too stupid to vote.
What?
First, I'm not planning on voting for Barack Obama this year and the color of his skin has nothing to do with it. If Colin Powell were running, he'd have my vote. If Michael Steele were running, he'd have my vote. Both of these men have demonstrated to me, in different ways and under different circumstances, the qualities that I personally look for in a US President.
That said, I understand that there are some people for whom race does matter. I met some of them when I was in Texas last spring helping the campaign efforts for a candidate who is no longer among the contenders for the 2009-2013 Administration. I heard it. I shrugged it off as a "to each his or her own." In my book things balance out and besides, at least twice as many people told me that they were being told, in their churches, by their families, by their communities, to vote unified...to vote black.
I understand that the color of a candidate's skin might still figure into a Presidential vote. I also understand that the anatomical plumbing of a candidate (precisely, the presence or absence of a penis) might play into the decision making process of some. So does eye-color, the kind of clothes they wear, the timber of their voice. Some people *do* actually vote for a candidate based on nothing more than the alphabetical order of the person on the ballet box. This is America. We can't help the fact that yes, some people do just vote stupid.
What I want to know is this: Are the same pollsters who are trying to make this race about...well...race, asking how many African Americans are being encouraged to vote "black."
Why is it suddenly so important to dissect the white American woman? The last time anyone was this interested in what we thought as a group - well - they were trying to sell tampons, laundry detergent, and about 3,671 other kinds of cleaning products in general. We're used to being a "target audience" - we've been that ever since the advertisers figured out who does most of the household shopping.
But until recently, we haven't been that interesting as a political voice. And neither campaign is singing the songs about issues I care about. So let me make it easy:
- The Presidency should be an office sought for no other reason that the firm belief that it is the greatest sacrifice any person can make - to serve this country. And the person who seeks it should be able to prove to me that they care more about America than themselves. They should have already served.
- The United States is not an opportunity for intellectual gymnastics. Instead, it is one great big huge dysfunctional family - we fight amongst ourselves but nobody else better try and hurt one of us. If you don't come from a big dysfunctional family you won't get this - but this is what it boils down to - sometimes someone farts at the table, or leaves the toothpaste cap off, or "borrows" your sweater without asking, or about 325000 other wildly annoying things. You have to deal with it, you can't whine and it will never change. But fight one of us and you fight ALL of us.
- Both the President and the Vice President should be willing to stand up and say "knock that shit off" when people try stuff on them that we generally protect our citizens from. Things like violation of privacy, stereotypes, and unequal treatment. Things like accusations based on skin color or the presence of a vagina.
- The President and Vice President should be able to read and fully understand what they are reading. That includes things like the Fair Wage Act - an act which, had it passed, would have really screwed women in this country. It includes the economy, and while bailouts are a temporary fix they don't actually HELP the country in the long run despite what Suze Orman says. (Someone recently pointed out that had the bailout money been distributed to each citizen over the age of 18 instead of these piggy financial institutions run by, yes I'm going to say it, STUPID people, we'd have an economy!)
- The President and Vice President should have such a spirit of service to this country that every filthy rich entity, be they CEO's (or former CEO's), celebrities, and "special interest" groups should be absent from the picture - because there is absolutely nothing in it for them.
- The President and Vice President should be smart enough to know that the Presidency is a terrible position to hold but that short of dying in the line of duty there is no greater service. Oh wait...did I say that already? I guess I'm just a big fan of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson - two old white guys who'd been scarred in battle and neither of whom was perfect. Neither of whom could get elected today.
I don't vote because I'm a white woman. I vote because I'm an American and it isn't my right...it's my responsibility. It's a responsibility because people through the generations have sacrificed beyond measure so that my voice is heard. It is my responsibility to be smart about my decisions. Not to let heresay or brute force think for me.
So if you are one of the people making this race about race...or gender...do us all a favor and stay home. You ARE too stupid to vote.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
...The More Things Stay the Same
Of all the pithy things that stay with you, the one that comes to mind the most for me is this little internet adage...
"On the Internet, no one knows you're a dog."
Which is why, although I've been wandering around on the 'net since the way early 90's when you actually put your phone ON the modem to connect, I've always been pretty cautious about being "all the way" out there as my whole self. BTW, Chris says that if I remember putting the phone on the modem it must have been the 80's. For the record, I'm not admitting in writing that I'm that old...
The problem is, when no one knows who you are, no one can find you. For privacy junkies, which I can be, it's also a good thing.
Every January, without fail, at the very top of my list of resolutions is this one: Keep in touch with all of the people you care about. Every March, without fail, any attempt I've made to make good on this promise to myself has fallen woefully by the wayside. I've misplaced so many friends I could fill a stadium.
A few years ago I discovered linked-in. A friend invited me, I joined, and forgot about it until about 9 months ago. Then recently some of my friends whom I'd lost touch with found it, found me, and we reconnected. Then I found some more friends and connected again with them. But this networking site is very much "professional" and I want to reach out to folks in a more personal way.
I could, I suppose, try writing a letter, or even an email - which I did for a few of them - but this all seems terribly time consuming when all I really want to do is say, in a few words, "hey...how are you doing? What's going on in your life? Do you miss me as much as I miss you?" Plus, I haven't even sent Christmas cards out in 2 years (yes, I have some friends who thought I was dead, having missed the card business...)
So I wandered out to Facebook. I took the plunge. I used my *real* name. I used my "real" birthday (but not the year because I am, afterall, a Southern Woman.) I let Facebook make some recommendations and I agreed - at least with myself - to be a little less private. A little more transparent. I'm swallowing hard and shaking a bit. The song "If I Were Brave" by Jana Stanfield (I like the version by the Four Bitchin' Babes) echoes in my head and I am diving in.
In doing so, I discovered a few friends that I'd loved dearly and lost touch with, some of them all the way back from my high school years (2.5 decades ago.) And I thought, well...why not? I added them as "Friends" and they wrote right back!
And here I am, reconnecting with these people who were important to me during an important time in my life. I can see already that time has dealt us all different hands and we have shaped our views in response. But I've also noticed that there is this piece of me that is joyful...yes, that is the right word...joyful to hear from these people again. So even if we didn't take the same paths or make the same choices, maybe we are still enough the same to remember why we were friends in the first place.
"On the Internet, no one knows you're a dog."
Which is why, although I've been wandering around on the 'net since the way early 90's when you actually put your phone ON the modem to connect, I've always been pretty cautious about being "all the way" out there as my whole self. BTW, Chris says that if I remember putting the phone on the modem it must have been the 80's. For the record, I'm not admitting in writing that I'm that old...
The problem is, when no one knows who you are, no one can find you. For privacy junkies, which I can be, it's also a good thing.
Every January, without fail, at the very top of my list of resolutions is this one: Keep in touch with all of the people you care about. Every March, without fail, any attempt I've made to make good on this promise to myself has fallen woefully by the wayside. I've misplaced so many friends I could fill a stadium.
A few years ago I discovered linked-in. A friend invited me, I joined, and forgot about it until about 9 months ago. Then recently some of my friends whom I'd lost touch with found it, found me, and we reconnected. Then I found some more friends and connected again with them. But this networking site is very much "professional" and I want to reach out to folks in a more personal way.
I could, I suppose, try writing a letter, or even an email - which I did for a few of them - but this all seems terribly time consuming when all I really want to do is say, in a few words, "hey...how are you doing? What's going on in your life? Do you miss me as much as I miss you?" Plus, I haven't even sent Christmas cards out in 2 years (yes, I have some friends who thought I was dead, having missed the card business...)
So I wandered out to Facebook. I took the plunge. I used my *real* name. I used my "real" birthday (but not the year because I am, afterall, a Southern Woman.) I let Facebook make some recommendations and I agreed - at least with myself - to be a little less private. A little more transparent. I'm swallowing hard and shaking a bit. The song "If I Were Brave" by Jana Stanfield (I like the version by the Four Bitchin' Babes) echoes in my head and I am diving in.
In doing so, I discovered a few friends that I'd loved dearly and lost touch with, some of them all the way back from my high school years (2.5 decades ago.) And I thought, well...why not? I added them as "Friends" and they wrote right back!
And here I am, reconnecting with these people who were important to me during an important time in my life. I can see already that time has dealt us all different hands and we have shaped our views in response. But I've also noticed that there is this piece of me that is joyful...yes, that is the right word...joyful to hear from these people again. So even if we didn't take the same paths or make the same choices, maybe we are still enough the same to remember why we were friends in the first place.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
The More Things Change...
I had this thought.
Actually, I had many thoughts.
I had these thoughts 3 years ago when I started this blog.
I was thinking that I needed to make a change. I didn't think, until 6 months later, that the change I'd been avoiding for 12 years was actually going to happen. It did.
I was thinking that I've never been very good at commitment and I'd try hard to be committed to something...in this case, blogging. I wasn't.
I was thinking that a lot goes on around me and it might be nice to write about it. I didn't.
I was thinking that I might be busy, but not too busy for the catharsis of the written word. I was.
But tonight my thought, after catching up on my sister's blog, was:
I like to write. I like to think outloud. And my very *first* blog entry EVER made the DC Blog watch.
So I'm going to try again.
Because there has been a lot of change in my life in the past 3 years. But some things stay the same.
Actually, I had many thoughts.
I had these thoughts 3 years ago when I started this blog.
I was thinking that I needed to make a change. I didn't think, until 6 months later, that the change I'd been avoiding for 12 years was actually going to happen. It did.
I was thinking that I've never been very good at commitment and I'd try hard to be committed to something...in this case, blogging. I wasn't.
I was thinking that a lot goes on around me and it might be nice to write about it. I didn't.
I was thinking that I might be busy, but not too busy for the catharsis of the written word. I was.
But tonight my thought, after catching up on my sister's blog, was:
I like to write. I like to think outloud. And my very *first* blog entry EVER made the DC Blog watch.
So I'm going to try again.
Because there has been a lot of change in my life in the past 3 years. But some things stay the same.
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