Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Yesterday was one of the hardest days I have had in a very long time. I didn’t feel like I could write about it but I am starting to see that I probably won’t feel better until I do.
Fending off unwanted advances from men is never fun. Fending off unwanted advances by men you consider to be friends is heartbreaking.
I cried for hours yesterday, feeling betrayed and violated and worthless, like the friendship I had to offer was so easy to discard at a chance to try for some easy ass.
I experienced an assault in college that I rarely write or talk about. It isn’t because I am embarrassed or damaged. It is just that it has been done. I got through it. I survived. I came out the other side a stronger and more resilient woman.
I wrote a piece about it that I performed in Los Angeles. When the show was over so was my need to explore this part of my life for my art. I didn’t want to become a Lifetime movie of the week. (And to be fair that was the way but I felt, not a judgement against people who continue to share their stories throughout their lives. It was my feeling not a universal truth.)
I believe that trauma is something we live through not something that defines us. I am a strong woman not just because of one incident but because of a lifetime of experiences and a choice to work on myself. It didn’t define me. No one person or one situation cements who we are. We get to grow and change. That is why life is worth living.
Still from this experience and so many others I am very sensitive to my personal boundaries. It is my right. Unfortunately over the years I have repeatedly found myself in compromising situations that make that scared little voice inside of me ask, “What is wrong with me? Why does this keep happening to me?”
I let myself be my truest most authentic self with my friends and those I love and time after time that gift has been violated. I don’t mean for it to sound as severe as all that but there is a reason why I am guarded with who I let be my friend because on a night when two people are sitting across a dinner table from each other, in no way exchanging any sort of sexual signal, there is a guy who takes this as an opportunity to make a move.
Married men, bosses, colleagues and men in positions of power who in ordinary circumstances could be deemed good men, catch me off guard and try, sometimes demanding, I give them a part of myself that they don’t deserve. It is the most horrible feeling in the entire world. Did you care so little about me that you were willing to treat me like your own personal sexual vending machine? Why would you put me in a position where I have to tell you no and explain to you very inappropriate that is? And the worst part of all is that when the night is over so is our friendship, at least as it was, because never again will I let myself be vulnerable around someone I don’t trust and the moves that these men have seemed to think were innocent enough destroy all trust.
“Is it me?” I cried on my cottage steps to my good friend who happens to be a man and happens to be married and who, if this kind stuff keeps happening would fall into the category of fantastic people I can’t be friends with because I am so scared that on a moment when I am not paying attention, they will try to stick their tongues down my throat. Sometimes I fear I bring this on myself but as quickly as I think that, I get irate. A girl who wears a pretty dress and smiles and laughs doesn’t deserved to be raped just because she is friendly. “What do I do, hide and be stand offish and never let myself care about people because they might think it gives them an “in” to my pants?” I deeply resent when people say that being effusive and loving life means I am flirting. You want me to be a bitch who is cold and doesn’t talk to anyone. Fine we can arrange that.
I feel like I am being punished for something that I didn’t even do. Hoovering a plate of food is not me saying, “Come on sailor.” It is not a complement and if it was a one time instance I suppose I could find away to write it off stupid drunken behavior, someone taking the frivolity a step too far, but this shit has happened my entire life.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I have great men in my life who bring me cupcakes and let me cry, I would probably believe all men are dirt bags. But I don’t. And I am not even angry at the friend who demanded I give it up and tried to guilt me when I said no. I am just disgusted at the situation and for today, I am disgusted at life. It is raining outside. More like a torrential downpour and for now that is how I feel. But it is okay. Soon there will be sun.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
“If you want to fuck me don’t call me dude.” That was all she had to say for me to know I was in love. Hmmm... maybe not love. Lust. Girl crush lust.
She reminded me of those girls in junior high who were so much cooler than I could ever be. Not the vapid petty ones but the ones with natural good looks and raiser sharp tongues that made the boys slightly nervous yet too intrigued to stay away.
This girl is freaking cool. Like straight out of every girls dream list for a BFF, cool. I think it helps that she reminds me a lot of Natasha, my movement instructor from Russia who was hands down the hottest woman I have ever known. Like Jessica Rabbit meets Laura Croft meets Drew Barrymorre. All kinds of sexy, fun, cool, playful and dangerous rolled up into one.
Our mutual girlfriend had a game night the Friday before I left and I had a chance to chat with my friend crush in depth. I am not making this up - she animates crime scenes. How freaking cool is that?? She is like BONES come to life.
It helped that I was a little drunk. That happens when you don’t eat for days. This evening marked the end of my drinking days for a while.
I sat on the couch eating up every word she said, thinking that in a past life I must have been a lesbian. Women are so cool. The joy associated with meeting new girlfriends never ceases to amaze me.
Later I was talking to V who told me that our friends were watching us engrossed in conversation, taking bets as to when we were going to jump each other.
Don't knock it boys. Girl power rocks.
"I hope you don't take this the wrong way," V said during our post-evening recap, "But she very Lyndsey-ish. Kind of ballsy and brash. Just puts it out there."
"Aww, pookie! That is the sweetest thing you have ever said!"
I arrived in Seaside around 10 p.m. on Monday night after being detained by the state of Texas, where I made the grave mistake of keeping my earbuds in for the duration of my lay-over. I realized once I took them out how much great fodder I was missing.
A woman in a royal blue belted moo-moo was screaming into her cell phone, "Get 'er done. I saayyed Get. 'Er. Done." and the man next to me not only looked just like Bill Clinton, he sounded like him too. All I had to do was close my eyes to hear him purring at Monica.
My friend Nathan picked me up at the airport and we made the two hour journey toward the beach stopping along the way to get a bite to eat. I hadn't eaten anything but a banana all day and was famished but managed to order without telling the waiter I was so hungry I could eat his face. I am learning restraint.
By the time we found my cottage, the community was pitch dark. We stumbled around until we found my guest house. It is a sweet little two story with white wood paneled walls and blonde wood floors. The bedroom is on the ground level, decorated in the standard Seaside Style. The upstairs is a cozy living room and kitchenette with a balcony that is nestled in the trees. It is lovely.
I have been fighting off a cold all week and after a day in airports I was starting to feel like death. All I wanted was a scalding shower but unfortunately the hot water was out until morning.
I couldn’t sleep and decided when the clock hit seven that I would get up and adventure.
It is 45 steps from my door to the beach. Life doesn’t suck.
I chased the waves off my beach for an hour and then set off to explore the town. It is quiet here in the off season - just like I like it. There are several little restaurants in the center of the town, which takes all of five minutes to cross. Seaside is one of several beach communities that line the gulf, though it is obvious in architecture and attitude when you cross from one to the next.
The weather is perfect. A light long sleeve shirt, capri pants and flip flops is all I needed.
I met Nathan around ten and we went to pick up our bicycles. We rode our beach comers to the various points of interest on our community map - swimming pools, fitness center, croquet courts.
In the evening we met the other artists at the home of Marsha, one of the Escape to Create directors. We had an intimate dinner and some interesting conversation.
I spoke with the teacher at Emerald Coast Elementary where I will be leading acting workshops with 7th graders. I will be working with 25 students at a time and am a little nervous about wrangling so many of them but since the teacher there is a retired New York City police officer, I figure I can lean into her to keep them under control.
Over the last few days I have basically spent my time attempting to write, riding my bike to the nearby lakes and having dinner with the other artists. It isn’t a hard life here in Seaside and thankfully I don’t have much drama to report.
That is it for now. The beach is calling my name.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
This morning I got the following message from V:
“So I was thinking of you last night, which started with me thinking about my bucket list and then I moved on to yours and started thinking yours probably kicks mine's ass. So if you're looking for something to write...I wanna see your bucket list but in grocery store list format, please.”
First, let me tell you what I told V, which is I don’t believe in bucket lists.
They imply we should live one way and then cram in these other moments to make our lives feel valid. I think we should live our whole lives like an impromptu bucket list. You know, jump at the moments that stand out as life changing, not pass up on anything.
For this reason I don’t have a very lengthy bucket list. I have done a lot of what I want to do now and what I want to do tomorrow will probably change with who I am then. But since V requested and he rarely asks anything of me, here you go, in grocery list format, the things I plan to do in coming years.
- Buy a motorcycle and ride it up PCH
- Study at the ashram in Jackson Hole
- Live in Bali, Alaska and Africa (where is not decided)
- Become a certified Yoga instructor
- Work as and advocate for assault victims.
- Record a country album with lots of twang and songs about momma, guns, cheatin’ ex-boyfriends and of course, my dog (which I guess means I need to get one)
- Own a dog
- Campaign for a candidate I really believe in (I will let you know when I find one)
- See my best friend get married to a guy who loves and respects her and who will adore my god daughter
- Spend more time with my grand parents.
- See one of these freakin’ books get published
- Take my parents to Europe
That about sums it up for today. Tomorrow it might be different. But V didn’t give me specifics.