30. Breathe in…

16 11 2009

Breathe in…
I accept my pain.
Breathe out…
I realize that I am not my pain.

Breathe in…
I accept my past.
Breathe out…
I realize that I am not my past.

For some reason during these past few weeks, my mind unwittingly ventures into that deep little closet located somewhere near my left frontal lobe (i just made that up, i really don’t even know what a right frontal lobe means, but somehow it makes me feel smart) where I keep all of the negative memories of all of the things that have hurt me. Things that I did with no regard to how it would effect me in the long run. Things that I allowed other people to do to me because of my low regard of self worth. For one reason or another, I have recently allowed those memories to come forth and slip into my dreams. I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I look around my room and at the wonderful man sleeping next to me, and I feel like I’m living a lie. I feel like I don’t deserve to live where I do, to be in such a loving nurturing and supporting relationship, to not need like i’ve needed my entire life. I’ve somehow allowed my daddy issues to resurface. He pops his head in to remind me how unloved I am, and that no matter how it may seem otherwise, the truth remains.
I have to remember how much he lies.
Today, based on a developing family storyline, I’m realizing that I have no control over what people do, or what they’ve done. I am trying, and I think that what i currently have is wonderful. I love the life I’m leading now, and I cannot change the past. I cannot change the stupid mistakes that I’ve made. I can do nothing about what people think of me now, or have thought of me. I can only do what I know to do. I can only give the unbroken pieces of myself to those who are willing to take it. I cannot allow my father, my exes, my failed friendships, my failed jobs, my stupid mistakes, embarrassing moments, or my old insecurities that resurface uninvited to influence my present life.
I’m not my father.
I’m not the same Arie that I was when I was in other and more immature relationships.
I’m not the same Arie that needs to please you at the expense of me.
I’m not the same Arie that follows.
I’m not my past.

I AM my art.
I am opinionated.
I am learning.
I’m loving freely and responsibly.
I’m taking care of myself, and not at the expense of anyone/thing.

And I’m also letting go. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I don’t want this dark little closet in my frontal lobe. I want its contents to mix with my other realities, for everything to be relative. I don’t want to harbor animosity. I want those who have hurt me in the past, to no longer have any hold over me. I want those people to move on and lead their lives. I don’t want old Arie to have any hold over me. I want to go on and lead my life. I want to keep all of those memories as fuel rather than a burning fire that hinders me from moving on. A fire that burns the word ‘failure’ over every inch of my skin until I can’t take the pain anymore and I need to purge purge purge…

I’m trying.





16. Ani Difranco LIVE!

16 03 2009

ani

I’ve been in love with this woman for years. My best friend in highschool burned me a couple CD’s, one of which being her album “imperfectly”. To this day, that album has helped me through nearly every difficult situation in my life; my sexuality, horrible relationships, eating disorders, you name it.
And I finally got to see my goddess live, yesterday! The show was amazing. She played a few older songs, and a lot of new stuff. She has a song entitled “Yes we can”, the tribute being pretty self explanatory.  It was absolutely otherworldly, being under the same roof with a woman who I have idolized for most of my young adult life, and to be looking at her actual face with my own two eyes.  I can die happy now.

swim

both hands

32 flavors





12. I’m the proud owner of a vagina. Thank you.

23 02 2009

I stumbled upon an article in the Washington post describing an experiment where men and women were shown sexually explicit material, and their arousal is measured. The experiment essentially revealed that women are sexually aroused by everything, whereas straight men are aroused by women and gay men aroused by men. I fell in love with the explanation given by the authors comrade Gina:

“…What this study has confirmed is what we have always known: Women are more complicated and more interesting than men in all observable ways. This includes our appetites in general, and our sexual response in particular. Our sexual response is constructed like the Chartres cathedral, with flying buttresses and Romanesque friezes and colonnades and catafalques and labyrinthine passageways said to have mystical powers. Men’s sexual response is constructed like a rubber-band slingshot…

…Society has compelled women to become something unnatural, like “Riverdance” performers. We are expected to behave demurely in all places but the bedroom. So, from the waist up we are practically motionless, hands on hips in a perpetual attitude of motherly rebuke, but below, the thighs are parting, the legs are flying, the skirts are bouncing saucily. This creates a basic disconnection between mind and body. If women are confused, who can blame us?…

…Social historians concede that civilization arose and prospered from men accomplishing things to impress — and thus to bed — women. And it turns out that women can be impressed and bedded by all varieties of complicated things, such as the writing of great poetry, the designing of timelessly beautiful buildings, the discovery of penicillin. Imagine what civilization would be like if it had to arise from women impressing men.”

This explains so much. That guy over there is absolutely not aroused by two dudes making out. He’s also slightly weirded out that his girlfriend is aroused by girl-on-girl action!

Approximately 60 days of every year, the female body is filled with estrogen while she goes through a process related directly to giving birth. Giving birth takes place 9 months post sexual contact. How are we not sexually volcanic beings? Why does society force women to “become something unnatural, like “Riverdance” performers.” when it comes to sex, and men can watch porn and explore sex without (as much) judgment?

I’m proud to be a sexual being. I know what excites me, and I am not embarrassed by it. I’m also not easy, not a slut, not promiscuous, and not tactless. Every time I have my period, part of me says “Damn…” due to it’s inconvenient surprise on Valentines Day. The other part of me rejoices, because I belong to the other half of the race with a belly wherein a human body will one day grow. That human body will be inhabited by a soul, thus providing the world with something She has created.

I’m allowed to be aroused. I’m allowed to be sexy. I’m allowed to be a woman.

Click here to read the article in full.





6. Happy cabbage head

12 02 2009

When I was 12, I saw a documentary on slaughterhouses on PBS. Not only did it ‘gross me out’, but it made me feel disgusting and horrible. I knew that chicken tasted yummy, and I dug the occasional burger, but every time I ate it I felt genuinely guilty. At around 17 I was hipped to PETA after reading further into animal cruelty and how members would splash red paint on those wearing fur coats. Then I read about how fishermen in Alaska would club baby harp seals because the seals were eating up all of their fish- along with the fact that baby harp seal fur (the nice soft new kind) is pretty valuable in Europe. By this point I was already pretty fucking infuriated. The last straw was reading on the PETA website about not only the cruelty consequences of eating meat, but the environmental and health consequences as well.

At 17 and-a-half years old, I vowed to not be a meat eater. I followed Lisa Simpson’s 8 year old lead, and abstained from chicken, beef, pork, and seafood. I lasted quite a while, until the Holiday season came around. That first year, I was so torn. I did not want to eat meat, but my grandma’s gumbo is SO GOOD. I finally decided that there are 364 other days in the year, each of those days there are 3 meals. This means 1,092 other meals that I had that did not comprise of a single iota of meat. That’s got to be over 100 little chickens I saved all on my own that year. Eating my grandma’s shrimp and craw fish gumbo on Thanksgiving wont hurt my health or the environment.
I did this for 3 years until I started working at Trader Joe’s; a pseudo-health food store (i say pseudo only because although they carry healthy and organic foods, they also have very fattening and non organic food too). I discovered Tofurky, which is essentially tofu baked and seasoned to perfection. I started buying this for Thanksgiving and Christmas because it’s just so yummy. This lasted about 6 years.
In September of 2008 I took a trip to Savannah Georgia to visit my boyfriend. I was so excited about the vacation, and I refused to deny myself of anything. We went to so many different restaurants and I ate so much seafood. I figured if I were going to eat meat at all, I should do something safe, rather than having deprived my digestive system of red meat for so many years and then BAM! Here’s a steak!
I got back to California and went back to the veggie diet for a while, but money started getting tight. Cans of beef stew and cans of tuna are cheap. By the time December hit, I was already eating meat, full throttle.
I moved to Savannah at the end of December, and my boyfriend and I have been going to super-tasty-restaurant after super-tasty-restaurant ever since, and I’ve been comfortably eating meat products as though I’ve been a meat-eater my whole life. Simultaneously (and without having the light bulb go off in my head until just recently) I’ve been having consistent stomach and headaches.
This week I decided to go back to the vegetarian diet. I have a brand new life; I want to be happy, healthy, and energetic. It is known that women benefit from a vegetarian diet rather than the aggressive testosterone-filled chemicals in red meat. Although I spent a lot of my vegetarian years nursing a ruthless eating disorder, I want to do it right this time. I want to eat leafy greens, oats, and grains. I want to eat a meal and feel satisfied rather than weighed down. I want to be a healthy woman.

I used to work as an activist for greenpeace, and one of my biggest environmental concerns is our oceans. Not only does global warming effect our waters, the acidity causing the phytoplankton to die off, but the garbage from plastic bags, mcdonalds cups and starbucks coffee lids is monumental. There are islands in the oceans that are constructed based on the oceans currents, and they are composed completely out of trash and are the size of Texas. This is in our ocean! And when you buy fish, where do you think the fish comes from? A giant bottom-trawling vessel goes mutilates the oceans floor (obliterating whatever organisms that scientists have not yet discovered, and never will for that matter), scooping up whatever they can. Approximately 10% of that catch they actually use, the rest is by catch and they toss it right back into the ocean either dead or dying. And when you eat fish (and when I ate fish) you were endorsing that. Not only that, but if our oceans are more acidic and filled with our garbage, what do the fish eat, if there’s a phytoplankton shortage? Garbage. And what do we then eat? The fish. And a lot of the bottom trawling methods are illegal, and the fish do not get reviewed by the FDA. Those fishermen just sell their fish directly to the supermarket’s distribution center…so what the fuck are we eating?

I did the veggie thing…then I did the non-veggie thing. I’ve decided which side of the rope I’d rather be on, and it’s definitely the veggie side. That’s not to say that I’ll never eat meat again, I just know that by the end of the day, my impact on the environment and on my health is less.

I think a pescitarian diet (fish only being eaten once in a while due to mercury issues and the above mentioned ocean considerations) is much better than an omnivorous diet. More so now, with the intense impact the meat industry has on global warming and the amount of agriculture it takes to maintain all of our cows, pigs, and chickens. That wheat and corn could go to Americans and promote an abundantly healthy diet, rather than the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of animals so that Americans can get cancer and high blood pressure. There are ways to maintain a more sustainable pescitarian diet, which you can find on lowimpactliving.com
Although the most ideal situation would be that every American stopped eating meat and started eating veggies. Impossible, much? Certainly. What’s not impossible is loving meat while being at least a little responsible. Have a meal or two a week comprising of meat products. Institute more yummy veggies like avocados. Venture outside of the ‘meat and potatoes’ mentality and find other foods that you might like, just eat less meat.





3. Skirt! Magazine!

9 02 2009

I was having a nice little stroll downtown friday morning on my way to –insert major coffee chain here– to sit and do some light reading. I passed a magazine kiosk, and briefly noticed the local paper (which I already had a copy of at home). For a split second…literally half of a second…i caught a glimpse of another newspaper underneath it; something with brighter colors and a drawing of some sort on the cover. I was at full speed, doing that “i’m a woman downtown and I have someplace to be” sort of walk, and this magazine literally made me stop in my tracks, and take two steps back. I’m nearsighted, so when something grabs my ‘eye’ it’s kind of a big deal.
Now, I’m a self proclaimed feminist. I’ve read “The Hungry Heart” probably 10 times, and my favourite book of all time will always be “Cunt” by Inga Muscio (i urge you to go there, click on ‘womanifesto’ and submit your own. I intend to do so sometime soon, I’m just working on developing my own so that it’s solid and chalk-full of that ‘wisdom stuff’ that I haven’t quite acquired yet…).
You can imagine how quickly my heart skipped a beat when I saw the word “SKIRT!” Printed at the top. I immediately said to myself “Women wear skirts! Please let this be a kick ass women’s magazine…”  I’m really big on the Universe showing me little signs, which she does all the time. The image on the front of this magazine is chalk full of signs:

Skirt!

  1. I was wearing a hat almost identical to the one this figure is wearing.
  2. I was on my way to –insert major coffee chain here– to get a coffee much like the one she’s drinking.
  3. lately, the sparrow has been my spirit animal, so when I see its images, i know the universe is telling me something.

I know that sounds extremely cheesy, but the universe has not once steered me wrong.

At any rate, I grabbed the magazine thinking “Alright universe. what do you want?” and made my way to starb…I mean –major coffee chain–After about 5 mins of sifting through this magazine, I was sold. I even decided that I was going to get my hands on an edition every single month. I’m broke right now, so that literally means remembering every month, and finding a copy downtown somewhere until I can afford a subscription (a broke artist? how cleche).
The featured artist is amazing. Her name is Caroline Hwang. Her website is a lot of fun. She’s one of those creative types that even other creative people (like myself) look at her work and say “How in the flying hell did you come up with that?” It instantly makes me want to run home and “MAKE STUFF!” and then I get frustrated that my box of art supplies hasn’t been shipped from California yet, so all I can really do is sketch. I wish I lived in Brooklyn, because she’s looking for an intern and I would love to make coffee runs to –major coffee chain– for her. I am head-over-heels in love with her use of fabrics and stitching and TEXTURE (i freaking love texture) in her work. I’ve been nursing the concept of stitching fabric onto canvas myself, but again…broke artist cleche.
The content of this article is just as super kick ass as the artwork. I love the random manifesto pages, where instead of ads it simply reads things like “Wear your ♥ on your sleeve: it looks good on you” or “Don’t be afraid of a change of ♥ it opens your mind” and other little sayings. It literally made stop and look out of that Starbucks (eh, fuck it. We both know what coffee shop I’ve been referring to) window onto the street outside and smile to myself.
There are a handful of very well written and thought provoking articles. My favourite one is called “Can We Claim Our True Selves?” by Megan Seely. This article provoked me the most because it touches on the core reason why I consider myself a feminist, completely unabashed. In this article, she explores the exponential exploitation of women over time, and she attempts to answer the daunting question,  how do we begin to truly empower ourselves? She writes,

We have a nation with increasingly limited access to reproductive health services, especially for young and impoverished women. We are embattled in a National fight over marriage equality and the absurd debate about whose love is legitimate. Given all this, it is no wonder that women struggle to find acceptance.

Megan Seely is the author of Fight like a girl: How to be a Fearless Feminist which you can find and order on her website. She is a Woman’s Studies and Sociology professor at Sierra College, and lives in Northern California with her daughter and her partner.

There are so many other articles that made my heart skip. Instead of gushing about them each, one after the other and preventing you from your own skirt! experience, I’ll post a link to their website. Hopefully if you are in the Savannah, Beaufort, Fluffton, or Hilton Head Island areas of Georgia, then you can pick up a copy.

-Ariana





1. I can hold my own hand

5 02 2009

I have had a myspace account for a few years now, and mainly have been utilizing it for the sake of blogging. Sure, it was good for staying in contact with old and new friends, but I found phone conversations to be significantly more effective than ‘comments’.
Now that I’m four years older than I was when I opened the account, I’ve begun hearing my bones crack when i stand up, I found a gray hair on my boyfriend’s head, and I’m only 3 years away from my ten year high school reunion…I’m beginning to feel like I’m a tad bit too old to maintain a consistent myspace blog. Something about it just feels weird.
I’ve recently moved out of state, so the myspace is actually a good tool to keep in contact with my friends and family back in California. Therefore, it wont get deleted. However, as stated before, blogging on myspace is lame. Hence wordpress. The funny thing about this site is that I’d never been here before, and as I’m maneuvering around attempting to ‘customize’ and whatnot, I’m feeling like my boyfriends 67 year old mother who doesn’t know how to check her own email…which isn’t to say that’s a bad thing. It’s merely a well known fact that people over a certain age have a hard time with computers.
I’m three years away from my high school reunion, and I can’t for the life of me, figure out how to make my own customized heading.
In my defense, I’m pretty sure I’ve been an old lady my whole life. I love the dusty, plastic smell of library books, and would rather spend a day there than at the beach. I like prune juice. I read in the bathtub. I take midday walks to the lake. All I need is a pair of orthopedic shoes and a purse full of butterscotch candies, and I’m good to go.
I digress…
The point is, starting this new blog paired with my recent move across the country to live with my very committed boyfriend, working on overcoming years and years of a disgusting eating disorder, starting a new job, finally having a solid plan as far as how I intend to spend the rest of my life…well it all just screams renaissance. This blog, in essence, marks the beginning of my new grown-up happiness.








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