six tiny gold earrings

six tiny gold earrings

rounded into six glowing spheres

arranged into three rows

sorted into three pairs

refined into sixteen carats

packed into one white box

matching her white teeth that smiled when she opened it.

 

they said

thank you

and we will miss you

and you will do great things.

 

six tiny gold earrings

blinking in the light

like she did on her first day away from home

in a strange bed

in a strange room

in a strange place

but comforted by the fact that money really can buy love

 

six tiny gold earrings

six miniature representations

of the world she left behind

full of people who loved her

so she remembered their love

every time she wore them.

 

her step was that much lighter

her pace was that much tighter

her uniform was that much brighter

whenever she wore those tiny gold earrings.

 

even when she fucked in those

tiny gold earrings

she commanded attention

because they knew she came from a father

who loved his baby enough to send along

six tiny gold earrings.

even when she drank in those

tiny gold earrings

she received pardon

because they knew she came from a family

who cared about her dignity enough to send along

six tiny gold earrings.

 

 

I wanted those goddamn tiny gold earrings.

that’s all.

not her set; my own.

my own

six tiny gold earrings

rounded into golden spheres

arranged into three rows

sorted into three pairs

refined into sixteen carats.

packed into one white box

matching my white toothed-smile when I opened it.

 

I wanted even just one pair.

one pair that said

thank you

and we will miss you

and you will do great things.

 

One pair that said

you aren’t the first,

but you are loved

and valued

and we don’t want you to forget.

 

I wanted to be given

six tiny gold earrings.

 

but I am my own.

 

I bought my own goddamn earrings and hid them in one of the boxes

among everything that went away with me.

and I wore them

on my first day away from home

in a strange bed

in a strange room

in a strange place

but comforted by the fact that money really can buy love

even if it’s only for yourself.

 

and the funny thing is

my step was that much lighter

my pace was that much tighter

my uniform was that much brighter

whenever I wore those tiny gold earrings.

 

no one else had any like mine

and i was proud that I loved myself

and that i could love myself

as if there were nothing else i needed.

 

but then things changed

and my earrings weren’t real, after all.

they weren’t gold

they were only paint

and they chipped away just like me

and they came back just like me

and they weren’t love, not anymore.

 

but I will be gone again soon

and I will be older

and I will be stronger

and I will not need those

six tiny gold earrings.

 

In fact

it was easy to ignore

when a new white box was handed out

and new white teeth smiled when it opened.

it was easy to pretend those six tiny gold earrings didn’t mean

thank you

and we will miss you

and you will do great things.

 

I wanted to snatch them and hurl them across the room.

 

six tiny gold earrings

shining like the praise

I wanted so badly

 

but the funny thing is,

I don’t care anymore,

not really.

I can love myself

and they can love me too

as long as I am far enough away for them to remember.

windfall.

I found out two days ago that I will be leaving for Recruit Training in less than THIRTY DAYS. I am beyond excited.  I can’t even really comprehend that I will be gone to Parris Island, becoming a Marine.  On one hand, I can’t wait, obviously.  On the other hand, I’m having a huge “oh shit” moment about working out and eating right and mentally preparing myself.  I know I’ll be ready; the question is how ready.

Essentially, my plan physically for the next month is to run a semblance of an IST every day. An IST is an Initial Strength Test, and it’s administered to all recruits within the first few days of Receiving on the Island.  It consists of sit-ups, pull-ups (flexed-arm hang for females), and a 1.5 mile run.  My biggest issue is nerves, so I figure by running through it every day I’ll lose the stage fright and it’ll become second nature.

Other than that, I’m studying knowledge (rank structure, General Orders, basic USMC-type info they give us in a little book).  I’m writing myself letters that my sister has promised to send me throughout the process.  I know other people will send me letters, but there’s something kind of, I don’t know, more motivating (?) about sending yourself letters.  You know where you are and you know what you need to push you, and so you’re not going to bullshit yourself.  I’m writing one for every week I’m there, and she’s bringing me one for me to open on graduation (dramatic, I know), so I feel like it’ll be pretty cool.

I don’t know what this means for the blog.  I guess I’ll either keel one way or the other, write a ton before I leave, or forget about it altogether.  As for after…well, we’ll see.  The funny thing is, after three months of no blogging at all, I wonder where I’ll be mentally. I may be like a totally new person; I mean, that is the plan, after all.

Stay tuned, and hopefully this thing’ll play itself out.

Cultural Dynamics: Love and Marriage

Cultural Dynamics: Love and Marriage.

after all that melodrama

My floors are freshly scrubbed, all but one of my library books are read, and my older sister is bringing home her boyfriend for a few days.  I think it would be good for me to focus on feeling fresh.  I won’t force happiness, but I feel that if I focus on feeling accomplished and fresh and optimistic, the kind of happiness I want will work itself in anyhow.

I still need to put fresh sheets on my bed for Ange’s beau, but there’s time. I plan to take a run with our dog, Athena, soon and return my books to the library.  Having things to look forward to is really important. I don’t think I’m clinically depressed, but sometimes it’s hard to pull yourself out of feeling sad if you don’t have a rope.

Anyways, I am now in the mood to wish any lonely souls out there who are reading this blog a Happy New Year, most sincerely, and I guess my New Year’s wish (I don’t like resolutions) is to work towards health and contentment.

I planned to sleep through the New Year.

All I’d miss was Jenny McCarthy smooching some young guy who didn’t know better and observe Ryan Seacrest slowly usurp Dick Clark’s position. Oops, that was a few years ago, wasn’t it? He’s fully instated now, smugly narrating two-thousand-so-and-so’s arrival with aplomb and self-satisfaction.

And why shouldn’t he? I’m younger than he is, far too young to be cynical about his taking over Clark’s position, too young to grump about the New Year and too young to be blogging about it rather than blearily taking in the scene blaring on the television in the next room.  Aren’t I?

I mean, really, is it so wrong to be young and naive and happy and silly? Is it wrong to just fucking enjoy the New Year’s dawning and be thankful for another year? Sometimes I feel like everybody lives inside a goddamn greeting card that I just can’t open.  The holidays bum me out, plain and simple.

My younger sister glitzed herself up, hair, makeup, and dress.  We didn’t go anywhere; she just did it for fun and then put doctored selfies on Facebook with captions like, “gettin ready to kiss 2012 goodbye xoxo” and it made me feel awful.  Like, really depressed. Part of me thought, you should get all dressed up.  You should be excited like we’re having a mini party here at the house.  But I didn’t.  My sister’s been texting her friends and asking them about their plans, mainly because our parents are strict and won’t let her go anywhere for New Year’s.  She likes to live vicariously, I think.  I thought to myself, why haven’t I called up any friends, not even to wish them a Happy New Year?  Why don’t I text someone to see what they’re up to?

But I didn’t do any of that. I read a library book for three hours in sweatpants until I got yanked out to the living room for the thirty second countdown.  We watched the ball drop and my parents kissed and my little brother asked for more sparkling cider because he finished his before the countdown even ended and my sister twirled around and pretended she was still glamorous even though she had abandoned the dress for pajamas because no one was around to see her anyways and my parents keep the house pretty cold to save on heating.

She’s planning to Skype some guy she knows later on tonight. She asked to borrow my laptop and I said sure because it’s not like I’m at school anyways.  I’ll probably soldier on through this book since it’s due back to the library in two days and I hate having to return books I haven’t finished. I would renew it, but I’m renewing Les Miserables and I hate renewing more than one. I guess that’s just a quirk of mine.

Writing about how sad I am on New Year’s Day has me feeling like Holden Caulfield, and I don’t mean to sound put-on, so I’ll leave you to enjoy 2013 (although, I suspect if you’re really reading this a few minutes of hours into the new year, you probably don’t have much to get back to. I know that’s a mean thought, but I figure I can’t be the only one feeling a bit bummy tonight/morning.)

At any rate, I thought I’d be glad they didn’t play “Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot” this year because I think it’s cheesy, but I really don’t think they did, and it feels sad because they didn’t even bother.  Now they have musical guests party-rockin their various stages, and everyone’s moving on.  I really don’t think New Years is anything special.

Me, Barbra Streisand, a little bag of raisins, and a whole lot of loneliness

Well, here I am. As the title says, it’s me, Babs, and a little bag of raisins. Technically, right now it’s just me and a sticky plastic bag that held raisins a few minutes ago. I finished them before the previews were even over, so I have nothing. And no one. I feel very lonely, but they say you really must have a solo movie-going experience at least once in your life. I can’t say I’m convinced. There’s a trio of teenyboppers (am I old enough to call them that?) in the back row, and a gaggle of teens have their Ugg-clad feet propped up down in front. The only other patrons are an elderly couple and a skinny-looking kid in a windbreaker jacket. Not the most promising of company. Ah, well. To the movie.

After
I liked it, personally. I like Barba Streisand on principle, and I like Seth Rogen from experience. But I kept feeling like I’m going to end up like Barbra’s character- sad and lonely, eating peanut M&M’s in bed because no one’s there to stop her. How sad, right? Not to fear, I’m pretty sure my one-ness had no effect on me during the movie. I laughed louder than anyone else in the theater at the corniest jokes. I laughed at the subtle stuff too. I guess what bummed me out most was that no one else did, at either.

After-After

So then I went out to the car to decide where to have dinner. First, I went to a little diner. I figured I’d channel my inner hipster-meets-wannabe-writer by plunking down solo at a table with a stack of pancakes and a good book and while away some time. Good plan, right? Nope. I go in to find I am THE ONLY CUSTOMER. There are three employees on duty, and now all of their attention and scrutiny is devoted to me, the lonely weirdo who brings a book into a restaurant. In my purse, of course. So I fake like I’m texting someone, glance casu-fakely out the plate glass, and announce, sorry, my friend has decided to meet somewhere else. They wave and nod like we’re old friends and I shamefully look for somewhere else to be alone.

So, finally,

Here I am, in the parking lot of a Wendy’s, cupping a bowl of chili, my only friend on this cold night. I’m frugal, so naturally my heat’s not on, so I’m grateful that I ordered something that stays hot for a long time. I think the saddest part of all this is the lie I told my sister about how I had decided to meet a friend for dinner after the movie. How sad is that fake story gonna be to tell? The good news is, I’ll only be lonely for a few more hours. After I finish up here, I’ll head home to my lonely bed for some peanut M&M’s, which I absolutely must eat because I’m dramatic, and it will make this whole, lonely, mildly depressing night so worth it.

sometimes i encounter the most unexpectedly beautiful people.

A group of us poolees (Marine Corps cleared/sworn-in enlistment candidates waiting on our ship date) visited the Marine Corps Museum today. It was a long long LONG trip, but it was kind of like going away with your spouse for a weekend. You get time away from your daily life to focus on your commitment and to remember why you fell in love in the first place.

It was also a really great opportunity to bond with my fellow poolees, most of whom I only see once a month. We’re all essentially on the same plan these days. Sure, we may all have separate lives and jobs and dreams, but we share the goal of wanting to earn the title of United States Marine. Ooh Fucking Rah.

Now, you may wonder, as a gal pal of mine did recently, how amazing is it to hang out with guys who have been cleared by the government (read: no drug use, no mental or physical illness, a desire to be big and bad) and have a desire to bring l their bodies into prime physical condition, if it’s not already there.

Well…I won’t get on my feminist soapbox. Another post, perhaps. Suffice it to say that believing I can not control myself in hitting on or objectifying my peers is disappointing. Just like we ladies scoff at the sleazy cad leering out his car window at us as we pass, it is equally important that we remember acting like we can’t think of guys without planning out our next boyfriend is just as abhorrent.

So. The trip. It was really great, and one of the nice things for me was the camaraderie. Like I mentioned in my last post, I be gettin’ lonesome, and I don’t see many people I can identify with on a day-to-day basis. I work with fifth graders, my friends are in college, and my little sister is still in high school. Most of my peers, if they’re still around here, have no intentions of ever leaving. It’s one of those tiny, black hole towns that sucks the energy out of everyone and makes it nearly impossible to pull free. So being around people like me, who are also from small towns, who are also joining the Marine Corps, and who are also awesome, are good people in my book.

Today was awesome, but what really made it great was the conversation we had on the way home. We talked about anything and everything: military policy, ethics, religion, sports, music, the fucking Illuminati. And what surprised me were the viewpoints. I thought a lot of them would be more close minded about certain topics, like gay people. Not rights, just the people. There were only two of us girls, and one of us was asleep. The rest of my conversational partners were straight, macho-type, conservative Christian guys, and, darn my stereotyping, I thought they’d have problems with it. But they didn’t. I have emotional ties to the topic, and it warmed my heart that much more for them to say, “I don’t care how people are. For someone to exclude somebody because they’re gay or whatever is juvenile.” Not the most eloquent support of gay rights, but a real one.

At any rate, I guess this is just my way to express how happy and thankful I am for the people who pass through my life, no matter if they are here for a moment or a lifetime.

[END OF SENTIMENTAL MUSING]

Here’s to loneliness

I really do revel in being alone. Today, I drove my brother to school, and it was only when he had gotten out, his backpack slung affectedly on one shoulder, puff-puffs of breath in the cold air marking his short trek to the warmth of the school, that I sort of relaxed, in a weird way. All the way home, I sang to myself and carried on one-sided commentary on whatever I pleased. It’s not that I’m crazy; I just enjoy the sound of my own voice.

I had the house to myself when I got home, so I changed into sweats, poured myself a glass of wine, and masturbated. If you’re into memes, I was essentially the embodiment of Foul Bachelorette Frog.

But that’s not all, oh no. I gave a great big F-U to all the neat little housework tasks I had planned for myself, as well as the run I had lukewarmly considered last night. I fucked around on the internet, ate a really weird lunch, and took a 3-hour long nap. I did, however, do the 300 movie abs workout I found on one of my favorite fitness blogs, Fitspoholic Barbie!

Now, don’t get too disgusted at this revolting description. This is hardly me every day, but one commonality of most of my days is the intensely satisfying sensation of being alone. Don’t get me wrong– when I psych myself up to go out, I have a great time. I enjoy getting all spruced up and seeing the sights. I don’t have social anxiety (I’m not a bog fan of public speaking, but hey, that’s life). However, something in my soul will always delight in walking around the house in my underwear or reading on the toilet, even when I’m finished going. A part of me will always celebrate spending hours on a meal that only I will ever see or consume. And somewhere down deep I will always get a warm rush of joy at the feeling of being able to go braless all day, scratching my boobs whenever and wherever I damn well please.

You may call it gross; you may call it antisocial. I call it freedom.

Cheers,
Un-Glib

Chronicles of a Social Networker: Facebook Detox

Below are the first results of my recent Facebook Detox. I was tired of all of it, so it’s deactivated. I didn’t delete it for a couple of reasons.

1: I can’t quite let go of the convenience of it altogether. All my friends in one place, digitally speaking? I can’t ask for anything better. I don’t have a Twitter or LinkedIn or anything else, so for now it’s my best bet to stick with a way to connect if I ever need it.
2: When I go to boot camp, I’ve gotta post my mailing address somewhere! Yeah, I’m gonna be that recruit.
3: I have a lot of really good pictures on Facebook that aren’t available anywhere else. I gotta be able to access ’em.

DIARY- FB Detox

Day 1
I feel fine. There were a couple of times when I thought, ‘Oh, this would make a good status/ caption/ whatever. But the thing I remind myself of is the fact that everyone important has my number– and a few people that aren’t important, for that matter. At the end of this, I think I’ll find that it was worth it. It shouldn’t be by accident or convenience that people contact me, and the idea that I would ever believe my worth or popularity is somehow tied up in the traffic to my Facebook page is stupid. It’s sad to admit that, but it definitely seems that way sometimes. It will make every deliberate interaction that much more meaningful.
So, Day 1. Here’s to 29 more successful days…and beyond!

Day 2
Easy, though admittedly, I have gotten my social networking fix by not only posting FOUR times to my blog, but by also reactivating my Tumblr. Remember that? Yeah, it’s a dim memory for me too. At any rate, I get a weird kind of satisfaction from being largely off the map. Yay for no withdrawal symptoms!!

Day 3
Tumblr has replaced Facebook in my life. I don’t feel bad though, because it’s an anonymous creative outlet, and that is good for me. I don’t miss it. Over and out.

Ever done a “detox?” What social networks have come and gone in your life? (MySpace, we’re looking at you.)

closure.

You were perfect.

You said what I needed to hear.

You told me I was wonderful

and beautiful

and strong

and smart.

I was a fresh face in a new scene

Worried that everyone already knew who I was

And equally worried that no one knew.

We sifted through it all together

Sorted out the whole place

We ruled our corner of that universe together and

We were perfect.

And then I left you behind

In our old corner of the universe.

I smiled at my new space

So happy to have a room all to myself

At first, but

Elapsed time and unresolved questions piled up above my head

The more there were

The emptier it became.

Weeks passed

Months burned away in silence and questions

Each of us in our own separate, newly-made corners

And sometimes I would wonder

What the universe looked like for you all the way over there

Because for me sometimes it was cold

And empty.

I couldn’t take the guessing

The wondering

So I grew a pair (even though you know I hate that phrase)

And I brought my piece of the universe right next to yours again

For this little space of time.

Now, as I hang up the phone

I don’t feel lonely

or guilty

or selfish

or worried that I forgot to say one of those thousands of things

lurking right below the surface for all of these months

You told me I was wonderful

and brave

and strong

and smart all by myself.

You said what I needed to hear.

You were perfect.

__________

As usual, gimme yer feedback. Please and thank you. Even if it’s two words. But it better not be.

xoxo,

Unglib