Personal Strides

You see that awkward IwannasmilebutIdon'tknowwhethertheyarelaughingwithmeoratme grin there? When I was in the sixth grade, I was doing a break-the-ice activity in my homeroom class. We tossed around a ball with all these random questions on it, and when I caught the ball, the question that I was forced to read aloud and answer was "which cartoon character are you most like?" Hesitant and reluctant to answer, I decided upon Lisa Simpson: brainy, socially awkward, the less cool of the (older) siblings, always soul-searching. Yeah, that's me.

And yes, this is another personal, albeit short-sweet-and-to-the-point, post about my personality. My confessions. And so, I confess: I've a bit of a serious personality wrapped in dry, sarcastic humor.

My brother is a funny guy; he's a quick thinker and he was handed down that trait from my father who, himself, always has some pretty darn amusing jokes. I wasn't so lucky, and though I'm a likeable and personable (and reserved all the same), I have a far more serious and intense outlook on things sometimes. I can be funny, occasionally; after a few drinks, I'm a riot. When I'm out with my best friends, I can be hysterical. But 89% of the time, while I'm pleasant and usually very positive, I'm a very focused and direct individual.

And that's a difficult characteristic to turn off. I know people who would probably paint me more as The Grinch than Lisa Simpson, and I tend to be a chronic apologizer because I don't want people to think of me that way. I smile, I laugh, I'm happy, I'm chock-full of sardonic wit! Yet, I do get overwhelmed and sucked into my own personal attributes of being an activist and hoping to touch and change the world in one way or another. I sometimes have a difficult time decompressing.

Of course I realize that people have full ownership of the way that they view me, and of course I realize that I should make no apologies for being myself, but lately I've been thinking that I'm not offering a full and fair representation of myself online. Weeks ago, a friend of mine says to me (via twitter) something along the lines of "hey, it's okay to smile!" And I do. I've smiled while cursing people out.

In speaking to another good friend tonight, I'd finally cracked a few jokes; which, usually, goes rather unsuccessfully when I'm trying hard enough. And he says to me, "you gotta clown to deal with the madness."

Now, this isn't to say I'll try being less heavy with my posts, thoughts, and ways...but for the sake of my own mental health and happiness, it'd probably do me some good to get fired up a little less. My blood pressure can't take all that.

Short and Semi-Personal

I've never dropped acid before, despite owning Pink Floyd's entire collection. I've never even considered it before because I love my brain far more than the lulling excitement behind discovering what purple tastes like when mixed together with red and yellow and being so thirsty that you drink jazz while trapped in the same minute-of-the-hour for two-and-a-half days straight; I might be a square for learning that "drugs are bad" in school and I'm perfectly fine with not turning my brain into split-pea soup. Anyway, I had a heck of a dream the other night that I wanted to share because (1)it made me think of something a little further beyond the surface, in my analytical nature, and (2)the only thing I can compare it to is what I'd imagine a bad acid trip to be like. It seemed scary and dark and swirly; beginning in technicolor and transitioning to black and white with colorful strobe-like flashes. I was actually thinking of writing a poem about it (the previous sentence was a little poetic, eh?) but I mainly want to analyze the sequence.

I do think there is symbolism in aspects of life that people rarely consider, especially when the subconscious mind is left to roam free; it's beyond the realm of imagination because it is effortless and involuntary. Amusingly enough, people often think that believing something different (or not having their religious affiliation) means you believe in nothing, and aside from activism and advocacy, I believe in several things that may seem more ridiculous than religion, even.

I think the dream was supposed to be nightmarish, but it didn't really scare me once I was awake. I only remember a few key things: hundreds of men with guns holding up people that were standing in some line outside of their cars in bumper-to-bumper traffic, running away with a few other people, the world being completely black and falling apart like when Joel was asleep and erasing Clementine from his memory. Well, it was similar with objects but not with the characters; the ground was crumbling and the people (/creatures) fell into what was previously the earth, into a dark pit of nothingness to the depths of human absolution as a result of their disappearance toward death. Toward the end of the dream, there was only a piece of something left and I was the last of two people to go. The person, though, turned into a cross between a waterless killer whale and HR Puf'nStuf, black and white with my mind's poor special effects; this literally made my stomach feel like a microwaved marshmallow, dizzy and like I was floating or had been bounced too high on a giant trampoline. I was trapped in a kaleidoscope of destruction and the world I knew was falling apart like an over-hyped Armageddon. As I was upset and offering comfort toward the creature, it cried out to me that maybe they were just in the wrong universe or born of the wrong time and place. I replied to them one of the more labyrinthine statements I've ever uttered, asleep or not, regarding the abstruseness of death: " Maybe death is like awakening from a dream." Then I opened my eyes in the conscious world, and it was over.

...not really sure where any of that came from. I don't eat right before bed and I stay away from medicines unless it's the very last resort; I'm quite sure I did not take anything before bed.

I've got to keep it real: one of the more frightening realities about living, to me, is dying. I avoid thinking about it, even having dealt with death a lot in my lifetime. There aren't many things that scare me beyond my fear of drowning and/or suffocation (and not largely because of the dying aspect that comes with it), having gone through so much from childhood on. Death, though, is a scary thought to me and it isn't even just dying young or prematurely...everybody has to die and that is a fact of life. And it's terrifying. I've experienced a lot, even before I did a lot of living, and I'm less than frightened by many human situations beyond the possibility of failure. Death is absolutely one of several qualms I have with religion. I know people claiming religiosity that have personally said to me that they'd rather err on the side of caution, that if there is more to death than the nothingness by the end of life, they'd love to experience that. Not knowing any one who has died and text messaged me from the other side, I'm not sure what happens, and I'm cool with not saying either/or because I can't speak to it; I'm no authority on the matter and I will never claim to be. I like being able to say "I don't know" and feel comfortable in it.

Weird dream. It was like "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" crossed with "Enter Sandman."

Be Righteous

Sigh II.

Growing up without my grandmother living in state wasn't too difficult. By the time she moved to North Carolina, I was off at college and still only saw her occasionally but I talked to her all the time. She was one of my inspirations, even through our tough times (there were times that we didn't speak at all, but every family has issues). I talked to her on the phone all the time, especially when she was ailing. When something began to bother me, I'd have to talk to her.

After she passed last year, it just didn't dawn on me. I was devastated after coming home post-graduation to help take care of her, and was locked away for quite sometime. It hurt; she was one of my best friends and I certainly got my fashion sense from her. After a while, though, it was like she was just was still in New York or I was still off at school -- especially with my hectic work schedule.

...until I just picked up the phone and involuntarily began dialing her number. It's been a crazy last few days. I think I'm going to have to take a brain-break from everything and just relax.

Should I Introduce Myself?

...not that I am new to this blog thing, but this is a new blog; and in its newness, I suppose anyone who comes across it should know a little about who I am, what I expect, and my purpose for blogging.

So, who am I?

I hate definitions. I think that one main duty of the human experience is defining things for oneself; that said, I can say what I am, but not with 100% conviction. I know what you see me as, and I can only work in helping you with what you don't see.

I'm a Black woman BUT I certainly do not speak for all Black people, all women, or all Black women; instead, I try to speak to issues surrounding race, gender, together or separate; sexual orientation, activism, human rights.

I am a survivor of sexual assault, but I am not just that. I don't speak for every survivor because no one experience is the same. I do not speak for every Black woman that has been assaulted. Having been victimized, I believe that people make decisions afterward at their own discretion and I never believe that they are stupid, and I realize that in certain situations, some behaviors are rational at the time. Having advocated for other survivors (or "victims"), I definitely hold strong opinions to the point of emotion regarding domestic violence, rape/sexual assault, gender discrimination and all other forms of sexual violence. I am not just a survivor/advocate/counselor; yet, I am all of these things.

I am quite certainly not the poster child for human rights campaigns all around either; however, I do hold my own opinions, fight my own fights, and am never afraid of making that known. I might have some "extreme" viewpoints in the minds of some, but I never seek to offend or oppress anyone, and encourage dialogue. While I am very strong in my beliefs and opinions, I am firm enough in what I believe to be open to attempting to understand other people's opinions.
It's a part of the fight, right?

I am never afraid to say "I don't know". I often times teeter totter between atheism and agnosticism and I am just fine with that; having my own beliefs doesn't mean I hate other people's. I have a genuine admiration for religious people. I just can't...
A lot of my lessons, you'll learn, draw upon religious concepts. And that's cool because, to me, that's the purpose of religion. Remaining labeless works for me because I like to be free and define myself for myself. I certainly don't speak for the non-religious/agnosts/atheists/whatever-else-ists. I hate religious/ideological labels because my mission in life is to define myself for myself. When asked what my religion is, I generally just say "love".

I'm not perfect, and I don't pretend that I am. As a matter of fact, I enjoy knowing where I am lacking and acknowledging my flaws. Sometimes, I just like to shop. Sometimes, I'm just silly. Sometimes, I even go the "da club" and dance to music that is probably less than favorable (though I try to atleast remain in good taste). Sometimes, I just want to have a good time being young, because maybejustmaybe one day, I'll just be having fun trying to be young.

I am a bit of a loner, and have some pretty typical characteristics of my zodiac sign. I'm secure with myself, and have little time for life outside of work and the internet. Sometimes, I hate that characteristic about myself. But...sometimes, what's necessary just is.
Sometimes, my assertive/borderline aggressive personality is very well received; this, coupled with my mysterious nature, attracts people.
I try to be positive, and I believe in love...but people have limits. Remember what Ol' Dirty said...



Example? Hating people being "in my head", but deciding upon becoming reacquainted with the blog universe.

I guess that's a start.