Saturday, July 10, 2010

Cabbage Patch Kid Seeks a Man

I have a mirror next to my bed. It's a cool vintage full length mirror that my grandpa gave to my dad, and then my dad gave to me. Most days I like this mirror. It confirms whether or not I'm satisfied with the outfit I've picked out, whether or not my ass looks like the size of a pickup truck, or whether or not I feel svelte and debonair. But sometimes, when my alarm goes off, I roll over pretending not to hear the dreaded reminder of early morning and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Sometimes I have to blink twice and clear my eyes to ensure what I'm seeing isn't some homeless person who snuck into my bed for a full nights rest, but it is in fact me, hair going in all directions, eyes slightly poufy, no makeup and a pissed off scowl to boot. It's nothing short of horrifying.

You see, from a young age I've always been under the impression that ladies wake up with flowing luscious hair, with a perfectly chipper face and naturally we are supposed to run to the window, spring it open and let the little blue birds land on our finger and sing us a morning song all while the wind blows through our stunning tresses.

This has yet to happen in my life.

Like I said a typical morning results in me looking severely homeless, and I'm constantly haunted by certain voices in my family, asking why I don't date or where my boyfriend is, and me giving them a sarcastic response like "Well, if you'd see me in the morning you'd know why I'm single" and they then awkwardly laugh, feel kind of bad for me and then toy with the idea of whether I'm a lesbian or a strange recluse.

I'm not. A lesbian that is.

My sister and my mom gave me a lesbian time limit when I was in high school. My sister, who is absolutely stunning might I add, said "If you don't have a boyfriend by your sophomore year of high school, then you're probably a lesbian." My mother graciously said "No, if she doesn't have one by junior year, then maybe something is up." Thanks for looking out Mom.

Apparently, my ridiculous posters of N*SYNC and my obsession for all things Leonardo DiCaprio wasn't enough to convince them that I wasn't harboring same sex tendencies.

I could just see my mom telling the family, "Yes, Kelley is just as gorgeous as ever, all the boys are drooling over her and Colleen, well, she's just as smart and funny as ever…no attention from the boys, but that's okay, she may be a lesbian, and you know what I support her 100%."

The thought of these conversations happening between my mom and other family members really bothered me, for the shear fact, that I think they aren’t putting all the facts into play. My sister, looks like a Barbie doll with excellent hair and perfect skin and eats whatever she wants and maybe weighs 110lbs, where as I look like a Cabbage Patch doll, and have very bizarre hair and the pastiest skin this side of the Mississippi. Not to mention I watch very carefully what I eat, but I am still convinced my sister did some kind of magic trick when I was born to ensure that whatever she eats, I gain the weight for her. My sister gets hit on by the hot waiter, and I get hit on my the homeless man who really only wants the 50 cents he saw me drop from my purse. My sister has a gorgeous baby, and while I’ve yet to have kids, and won’t for some time, I can only imagine that my child will come out of the womb with his right leg attached to his forehead. You know, for consistency’s sake.

Although it is comforting to know that I have a family that supports me as a lesbian, even if it is a little disappointing to them, that I am as straight as ever.

Coming from a genetically blessed family is a burden.

Just when you thought starving children in Africa had it hard…

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Soley Soulful

Soul is commonly defined as "the immaterial part of a human being actuating the cause of an individual life."

Which means that a soul mate is more than likely defined as a the puzzle piece that fits perfectly into that immaterial part of a person. A mate that completes the picture, that ices the cake of the individual life. Right?

If someone asked me to define exactly what I would look for in a potential soul mate I assume it would be a short laundry list that was as follows:

  • Effortless humor
  • A manly protecting nature accented by sensitivity
  • An artistic passion for life
  • Loyalty
  • Kindness
  • A good hugger

I actually haven't given it much thought, to be honest. But I imagine that those six qualities would be present in a potential soul mate.

I have been thinking about this alot lately. Wondering if I even believe in soul mates, if everyone is made to match another human being in the world. It seems incredibly improbable in this world, but the idea is nice. The idea is grand and intoxicating, sure but is it just something that we all cling to for security? Security against loneliness?

We all come into this world alone, as so many people like to bring up in the most depressing of situations. I mean how many times have you heard the phrase "We come into this world alone and we will leave the world alone?" I bet you've heard it more than you care to mention. It never makes you feel better either. It's a depressing thought and a depressing word of wisdom but is it true?

Technically, it's not. You are not alone in the womb, because well..

A. It's not your womb.

B. It's INSIDE someone.


C. You are fully connected to another human being by an umbilical cord when you are pushed out into the world. (Unless you were a test tube baby, and in that case I really don't know what to say to you because I don't know much about test tube babies and the image I have of them is something along the lines of a baby growing in a jar full of baby growing juices until they take the lid off one day and the baby is fully developed and equipped with a diaper already on. That's how it works, right?)

But essentially we are alone but not at the same time. It's quite a paradox. Just like the paradox that people surround themselves in when they say that they love to be alone but then their biggest fear is being alone. It's just a weird, weird mix of human quirks.

I've always wanted a soul mate. I've always fancied myself the type that will have this epic story of romantic proportions to tell my kids one day.

"I was trapped inside of a burning theatre on Broadway I was working in and everyone got out of the building except for me and your father came swooping in, flying towards me like a majestic phoenix and throwing me over his shoulder and then bringing me to safety almost immediately. He realized he loved me and how could I NOT love him after that, then he kissed me passionately and that's how me and your ruggedly handsome fire fighter father met. The rest is just history."

You know...something like that.

But apparently my life isn't a 1930's melodrama and my romantic encounters in the past have been far from heroic, far from romantic, and sadly, no fire fighters. Which makes me really wonder if I do indeed believe in soul mates.

The idea of a soul mate was never an original idea in my own head, it was always something I read about, saw in the movies, heard people crooning about in love songs, so I figured it was just a natural part of life that we all were going to encounter at some point or another before our time is up on this Earth.

Which gets me to think, how many people have an idea of their ideal mate? How many people can give laundry lists of all the qualities they want that said person to inhabit? And then on the other hand how many people can make a laundry list of the qualities that make up their OWN soul?

Chances are it's easier for people to say what they want rather than what they are. Perhaps I am being presumptuous in saying such things but I really feel like I am right in this statement. I don't think people spend enough time being alone with themselves, falling in love with who they are and what they have to offer and celebrating themselves. Why do that when you can look at someone else, fall in love with them, celebrate them? Seemingly it's absurd and selfish to be self involved, it's more romantic to be invested in this other soul, this other life and marvel at it. Because then you don't have to think about the things that bother you about your own self. And then you are not (oh no, here that word comes again) alone.

But what if?

What if we were more selfish with our souls? Just for a little bit. Just enough 'me' time to really get to KNOW ourselves, so that we can share again?

I mean yikes, scary right? What if you delve into the recesses of your soul and find things you can't stand? I know I've been finding some gems in my own soul that I'm not proud of, but I think I'm getting to know them better and mustering up some courage to change those things or at least I'm acknowledging them more.

What I think I am trying to say here is, maybe we should stop getting so wrapped up in definitions. Definitions that aren't our own. Maybe we would be happier and more satisfied in life if we took our time more, figured ourselves out more, if we looked at the fear of loneliness and spit in it's face and realized that we aren't really alone most of the time and that patience is truly a virtue alot of us (including me of course) know not of.

I have this hope that once I am truly at peace with myself, all my quirks, all my charms, all my flaws, then I will bump into that soul who is finds those quirks, charms, and flaws intriguing and wonderful and I in turn will find theirs just as intriguing and wonderful and the rest will unfold from there. The rest will adapt, thrive and flourish and maybe then a more realistic (and yes I'll be the first to say) CLICHE story to tell the kids will be along the lines of...

"Well honestly, I met my soul mate when I wasn't even looking."

But until that happens, I am going to spend some more time getting to know this Colleen character.

I'm getting more and more okay with that.