Writer's Block

I've had writer's block for so many years I can't remember when it began. Sometimes I think it's the medication. But if I want to be truly honest, I've been running from myself for over 6 years. It started when I came back to the US from Jamaica. Well, maybe a little later...when I gave up on what little hope I had left of making the world a better place, and became more concerned with being a wife and mother. Not that being a mother isn't the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, but I used it as a cop-out to give up on my dreams. I used it as a big comfy blanket to hide under and muffle the sound of my own heart and mind.

Tonight I find myself completely alone in the house I've shared with my husband for six years. Six long, trying years where I've suffocated within an inch of my life...almost quite literally. And here I sit, writing. And not some bullshit list about who I think I am or who I would like to be (like the last few posts made over a year ago). No structured writing prompt to hide behind. Just, writing. 

I don't blame him for my writer's block. Someone can't make you forget who you are...they can only make the Kool-Aid and its up to you to drink it. I guess I didn't want to be alone anymore. Or maybe I wanted to be someone else...normal, whatever that means. A wife and a mother with the white fence and minivan (I'm stuck with the minivan unfortunately). No one told me how hard it is to be normal when you aren't. 

I loved him. He was tall, dark, and handsome from an exotic land which I thought made my choice unique and therefore fitting of someone "alternative" such as myself. I placed my bets on love conquering all and believe that if I just loved him hard enough everything would work out. But I thought he would love me just as hard. And I was mistaken. So I took all my love and I put it into someone who gave me diminishing returns on it, and not to be clique but now I'm broke...well really broken is more how I feel. 

Tonight I'm cold and alone without my big comfy blanket of fear and complacency. It's very unsettling to say fuck you to normality. Then you actually have to figure out who you are. More than the exponential amount of stress I will take on caring for the kids and paying the bills, cleaning up after the mess I've made of myself will be the hardest task to take on. Do I remember who that was? How does that person need to be tweaked now that I'm a mother? How do I make sure this never happens again?

I don't know. I'm just happy my writer's block is going away.

In My Life

The life of a 28 year old mom and wife, living in the suburbs, isn't very exciting. Often I have to cash in on my memory bank from the "younger years" to keep me from chronic boredom. So, I've put together a list of highlights from my more exciting years. I have:

• Almost died and lived to tell about it.
• Ate Chinese in Chinatown, Brazilian in Little Brazil, Korean in Koreatown, and Italian in Little Italy.
• Ate Red Beans and Dirty Rice in the French Quarter of New Orleans.
• Been beaten with branches inside a clay oven pawned off as a "spa" in Mexico.
• Broke a few laws.
• Danced, and danced, and danced.
• Drank Absinthe and ate pastries from a quaint bakery in Paris.
• Drank Bailey's in Ireland (not a fan of Guinness). 
• Drove from Oklahoma to Miami and Philadelphia to Atlanta.
• Drove on the wrong (left) side of the road, on the winding paths around cliffs in Jamaica.
• Experienced the birth of the brightest little light in the universe, my daughter Samarah.
• Fallen asleep on the NYC Subway and woken up at JFK Airport....twice.
• Followed a neighborhood dogs as he played on the cliffs of the Irish fishing village Howth.
• Gone to a club by myself and made friends with complete strangers.
• Gone to gay clubs in DC and danced with some of the cutest boys I've ever seen.
• Gotten completely paranoid and spent $50 on a cab back to my hotel in Amsterdam.
• Gotten pushed down the stairs by a bouncer in Florence.
• Had a crazy Australian stalker follow me around Berlin.
• Had a guy try to step on my foot as a way to pick me up in a London club.
• Had an 80 year old Mexican cab driver propose to me.
• Had an altercation with a gondolier over the price of a boat ride in Venice.
• Had men in Italy give me cat calls.
• Laid on white beaches.
• Lived in a hipster neighborhood before it was hip.
• Lived in another country (England and Jamaica).
• Loved, and lost, many.
• Managed to get a Master's degree without buying books for my classes.
• Met a US State Senator.
• Overdosed on pot brownies in Jamaica and totally freaked out
• Protested war and discrimination.
• Salsa danced in Miami while drinking an $18 drink.
• Seen my car tire roll down the street outside of my college after driving home in a car where frost was collecting on the inside of the windshield and a persistent buzzing would not die.
• Seen some of the most amazing bands perform (Smashing Pumpkins, Garbage, Queens of the Stoneage etc.)
• Seen the Royal Jewels.
• Seen the Sistine Chapel, Rocky Mountains, David, Tower of London, Eiffel Tower, Colosseum, Sagrada Familia, Vatican, Empire State Building, Berlin Wall, Versailles, United Nations, and more I can't remember.
• Seen the words "Arbeit Mach Frei" up close and personal at a concentration camp outside of Berlin.
• Seen wild horses run on the beach.
• Shared so many laughs with people who I can honestly say I know their soul.
• Slept in a castle in Wales.
• Spotted Denis Leary, Jody Foster, Parker Posey, Jimmy Fallon, Tim Robbins, Jude Law, and Adrienne Grenier in NYC.
• Swam with dolphins and rode a horse on the beach in Jamaica.
• Taken a Greyhound across country.
• Toured Bob Marley's grave site with a Rastafarian who went to elementary school with him.
• Tried to kiss the lead singer of Blink 182. 
• Visited some of the greatest museums in the world (Louvre, England's National Gallery, etc.) and have been inches away from the works of DaVinci, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Dali, and many more.
• Went to a party with a neighborhood drug dealer to guarantee my safety in Bushwick, Brooklyn.
• Went zip-lining.
• Woken up somewhere and not known how I got there...far more than once.
• Written two theses.

And that's just the first 28 years...

These Are The Things That Define Me - A Revelation

I don't know what I'm about to write about, but I've been told I need to. See I'm trying to find myself again and reconcile that with being a mother and professional. The true me would watch Skins all day, then go out and mimic their mischief. So I wish people would stop asking me what I "want" to do. Obviously I do not want to be a little worker bee who does flash cards with her toddler and has a spotless house. But this is obviously what society wants of me, and to some extent these things are necessary to have the other things you want. For example, if I don't go to work, how will I afford to go to backpacking through South America? It feels like such an irreconcilable paradox. Can I be the professional mother who hits the bars at happy hour and foregoes PTA for a Skrillex show?

So I turned to the thing I do best...I made a list. Without any judgement or editing (hence the alphabetical order to avoid prioritization), I listed things I actually like, and trust me, it wasn't easy.

Being Outdoors

Coloring

Comedy

Cooking

Crafts

Cultural Experiences

Dancing

Dining Out

Fashion

Helping Others

Intelligent Conversation

Learning

Making Jewelry

Music

Politics

Samarah

Sleeping

Socializing

Throwing Parties

Travel

Watching TV Series

Writing

Yoga

In making this list I realized that I have been doing a lot of these things. But I'm never really present when I do them. I don't stop and observe how these things make me feel. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to forget what they were...I had no feelings associated with them. So now its time to take charge of these interests and realize that they aren't just filler in the spaces between being a mother, professional, friend, etc. No. These are the things that define me.

What do I stand for?

Watching the Fuse Top 10 countdown tonight I was asked a vital question by the band Fun. "What do I stand for?" Indeed. I decided this would be a fitting first post for a new blog on my journey to free myself from this existential depression and try to see some good in this world I must inhabit.

Now I'm not saying its ALL bad. My existential depression stems from the fact that the bad is infinitely worse than the good could ever be positive. So I can name something good about this world...how about charity. But flip that around and you have greed, which will always overshadow charity.

But, back to the subject at hand...what do I stand for? Here is a list so you can get to know me a bit.

I stand for...

Justice
Loyalty
Compassion
Gratitude
Authenticity
Charity
Individuality
Freedom
Perseverance

Of course, this is the short list. Until next time...