Weary (Sometimes.)

Sometimes, I would like to lay down the sword and the shield. Sometimes, I’d like to be held with no expectations, just to know what it feels like.
Sometimes, I’d like to show you the tender and best parts of myself without fear that the sharpest instrument will be used to destroy those very parts.
Really, I’d like to just be, sometimes. Instead, I am forced to walk around with this scowl on my face, daring you to get closer, while simultaneously hoping, wishing, praying that you would.
Sometimes they say “Black Girl, why you so angry?”, and I have no single real reply, yet my throat is congested with howls pain and rage that I cannot articulate.
Sometimes, though, I think of not being so hard, but then I look out my window…I turn on the TV; I walk down a busy street. I see violence against those who look just like me, degradation, fear and loathing. So, sometimes, I just stay inside.
My ears are inundated by catcalls, by misogyny, by…the silence of those who should have been my protectors; yet instead, they are the ones with the loudest voices and the most clamorous silence.
Sometimes, I get weary from holding all I own between my shoulder blades with no reprieve.
But then, I just cover it all with more cement, more mortar, more bricks, steel girders (my own backbone, really), and I just go on my weary way.

Nerd: A Defiant Manifesto

Let’s get this out of the way. I have a confession: I am what other folks would call a nerd…and I see absolutely nothing wrong with that.
When I was in the eighth grade, I participated in academic pentathlon (a pre-cursor to academic decathlon, which I also participated in, briefly), and I can remember this boy who, in golf rags, no less, called the whole group nerds, like it was a bad thing. I certainly didn’t take it that way. I almost felt a sort of pride.
Reference.com defines a nerd “as a term often bearing a derogatory connotation or stereotype, that refers to a person who passionately pursues intellectual activities, esoteric knowledge, or other obscure interests that are age inappropriate rather than engaging in more social or popular activities. Therefore, a nerd is often excluded from physical activity and considered a loner by peers, or will tend to associate with like-minded people.”
Ok, I get that I’m “supposed” to be social, popular and sparkly…but that is not who or what I am. I do ok in the realm of sociability, but I am much more at home in a riveting book of about 1000 pages than any crowd of people. Introverts are not typically crowd people. What I don’t get is, what is wrong with being a person who is almost obsessed with learning things in a world that prefers that the average person remains as ignorant and as misinformed as possible? What is wrong with a person who would rather be alone than surrounded by people that are bent on misunderstanding and/or destroying who that person is? Maybe I’m not a loner…it could be that I’m hyper-selective. I dunno.
I like Star Wars, reading, writing, speaking like I have brain cells, sci-fi in general, foreign languages, poetry, art, music (except country and polka), and sundry other things. I’m not really a Dungeon’s and Dragon’s kind of gal, but that could change (highly unlikely, but it could….maybe?).
These interests have given me solace in a world that has been bent on beating my best characteristics out of me. When I first moved from California to Colorado in the middle of junior year in high school, I had trouble making friends because it was a bit of a culture shock (among other reasons). So, I spent that summer with music, pens, paper and a dictionary. I read the whole dictionary, it’s true. I found that by doing so, I found words that could articulate the pain and loneliness of that time, and it still serves me well.
So, no, I don’t feel bad that I may be a nerd. I would rather be a nerd than a whole host of other things that I won’t bother to mention. It’s just another thing that I have learned to love about me.
Peace.

On Beauty.

I am an insomniac. Some nights, for some reason, I startle awake at around 3 am, at which time the internal reels start to turn.
"You are too fat for life."
"Beautiful?! Pfft! Your nose is a bit too wide. So are your hips."
"Brown eyes? Brown hair?! Girl, bye."
So on and so forth.
I confess, as a young woman who was unfortunately raised by the television, I obsess a bit over beauty. Mainly, what it is to truly be beautiful. Is it solely based a person's exterior; or, is it based on those inner qualities that attempt to push humanity towards a better future? Better yet, is it a combination of those two things?
My vote is definitely for the latter option.
These days (probably a long time before "these days"...I've only been around 25 years), people base a person's beauty almost totally upon their exterior, not on whether they possess kindness, generosity, love of self/others, peacefulness or other positive qualities. How many times have I heard that just because a person is "ugly", overweight, handicapped, etc, that they aren't worthy of one of the most essential rights of an individual: dignity?
Also, just because a person is what is considered conventionally beautiful, this doesn't automatically mean that that they are even happy. So what do I look like envying that person their perceived advantages when I am just on the outside looking in? Conversely, it is also incorrect to pity or deride someone because of their perceived disadvantages.
All I (and you) can do is just attempt to be happy in the skin God gave us (despite Madison Avenue's best efforts), no matter how dark, light, dimply, pimply, lithe or otherwise. We are all manifestations of love when it comes down to it.



Here's to more nights of uninterrupted slumber.
Peace.

Trying this again.

Yes, I am a glutton for punishment.

Let's see where it goes this time...hopefully, this will help alleviate this damned writer's block. We'll see...