Of a society enamored with Tweet size text bits and TikTok video clips I see something, or rather many somethings.
Be it attention span, the let’s just get to the point, in a rush to whatever – I find for myself that life is missing in the banter and arguments for or against whatever some point some try so desperately to make.
The addition, compulsion or fascination with this approach to sudo or false (as I see it) life will be here for the foreseeable future.
I can pontificate, prophesize or philosophize. I may rant and rave, or preach and protest. Listen as you wish, but blame and shame me, critique and criticize is not a role to assume. Think for yourself, and not to rebuttal or refute what others would expect one to. Out of gilt, fear, conformity or implied purpose. Think for yourself and not for the eyes and mouths of others. Or have we forgotten how to even think for ourselves.
Recently I was asked by a friend if I wanted to ride around on the way to pick up her daughter a little later. I texted back “I can put clothes on, what time?” I was wearing PJ’s contemplating how I could get sleep as I have deprived myself for far too long of this simple and essential part of living. With her response as it was I pulled off my pajamas and tossed on clothes. My smaller camera bag was already packed minus a camera. Into the bag went a camera and as I stepped out my door texted I was ready.
As we pulled away she asked a question that prompted me to tell a story about moments in my life and off my mouth went as my camera emerged and the shutter sounded with the lens looking out the window. We wound through the park, Golden Gate Park for non San Francisco residents. It was glorious to see people out doing what they do. Bike riders, walkers, joggers and everything else. As we wound through the Presidio I just kept chatting away with each ask on what I had been rambling on about.
I am always surprised when anyone comments on my incessant chatter that I am a good storyteller and have had interesting experiences. I take this as a complement and yet, I am just me, another person and human, what makes a good story about me and what I have gone through? As I think through this today I find inspiration.
My thought have turned to sharing some of these stories. How about a memoir style journal series of some snippet or moment as I recount the events that some find they like to hear. I like to write and I hope I can incorporate media of multiple types; photos, audio, mixed media of the digital and physical form.
This comes to mind, aside from the lyrics gender reference that is obvious to anyone who has the wrong pronouns lobbed like grenades in their direction is often more attune to, good match lyrically, kinda, but only knda.
I am flipping through the card catalogue of some of the vocal reenactments searching for one to recount here as a start. I think I will let you know when I find one I want to step out with. OK?
In the mean-time, photos for your eyes (and audio above, I bet you noticed that though), I do hope I might entertain you while I try not to get a paper-cut searching for a memory to tell.
Just why does this seem appealing to me? I ask this question to myself my description begins with the duh, obvious response: Maybe someone will like it, then quickly moves on to more meaningful things. As the story teller it could help me and may have the same effect on someone who takes this in. Yep, that is a big broad statement and says next to nothing I know. In sharing these stories there might be those who relate or see something in themselves just slightly different than before to nudge a part of them in the direction of whatever it is that it does, better be a good nudge though. Least of which is to entertain, but this is just a symptom or side effect. not a goal. Then there is those who might be challenged and to those the phrase “Art is to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.”
When I start compiling these I will tag them with #memoir and whatever title is settle on.
It was not easy for me to have any understanding. A greater effort was needed to have an acceptance of what I want to express here. An idea that permeated so much of my life could be described as this. And still, it was and still is to some extent or another. As the title reads: Lies and secrets.
The hardest thing it would make sense to think is what I know, feel, think, believe and so on are based on something unknown or not understood. In one way or another the almost blind acceptance that I was there, I saw with my eyes, heard, felt, tasted, others did as well or whatever the case may be so that it must be, it is immutable as truth. This make so much sense and then when I look at life and the world around me, make connections and comparisons or see contrast it raises questions. One of those is the lies and secrets people have from even themselves. It may sound like a stretch to have this happen or to do this but think about it if you can. This is a defense mechanism for trauma or other destructive experiences one may have in life. An act of self preservation if you chose to look at it this way.
Then there is reality. Reality is not a whole and shared thing. Ones experiences in every form from observations to thoughts and feelings filter and augment every aspect of how we even take in our environment and as this passed through our own very unique collection of reality altering filters we do not even take in to begin with what is the base or source reality.
One needs a degree of trust in self no doubt, but a complete disregard for the shift in what is and what we see as reality is in itself a lie. In maintaining that lie hides those secrets we cannot even face within our-self.
Coming to terms with this is not a quick or easy process. It takes much effort and time that can not easily be quantified. The end is also fuzzy. The journey to where one might go with these thoughts is once again, in my view where to be and cherish, enjoy and learn from. This is no small ask to pose in my mind and I keep asking anyway. Easy is not a destination. The path being worth it is where I find joy. The struggle on the way, the small victories are the reward. arriving at a destination tells me I need to find somewhere to go next. If I stop and claim contentment, saying I am done then I may as well have died. When I stop growing, learning I see this as the end of living.
I will never catch every lie or know all the secrets I hold from myself, that is not my desire. My goal is to keep living, learning and growing so I am more than a just body with a heartbeat. My heart should beat with more, far more than simply a physical biological action.
Just like cleaning or making the bed, it will get dirty again or you will turn down the covers to sleep, they will need to be done again. I will never get to a place that the mental cobwebs are never to return. I will also carry some amount of emotional baggage. I can attempt to be prepared to clean and carry these, or anticipate and expect this simply is and move on to my next mistake I might transform into something better than I ever saw it before.
As I was searching through photos for an image I took an unknown number of months ago I located a video clip of what I photographed and changed my direction. The featured image is from the video edit.
And here is the 5 second video I tossed together, because I wanted to.
Fear. This one word says so much.
As I attempt to translate my thoughts into words this morning, the word fear is close the the core of those. I grew up in a place and in a family that taught and acted that if something can go wrong in some way, stay away or don’t do, avoid, etc. In one form or another this fear has separated me from so much. Add in my dad and I get a run away from anything that could possibly not turn out well childhood on.
I am not one to regret. I am not making a statement as such. Everything I have been exposed to, thought, felt or otherwise brings me to this very moment. It took all of the fear as part of this to help me to today.
In society we are sold fear in a relentless flashing neon billboard screen that is forcing us to pay attention to their marketing. be that your phone, TV, computer, The image or logo on that person’s clothes over there. It is nearly inescapable. The propaganda and mouth of the fear machine is often dressed in kindness or being helpful. The need to cover-up fear can look like just about anything. Instant gratification or greed, power, or the one that is easy for me to spot is this ‘whatever’ will make this or that easier, faster, etc. These are often as I see a band-aid to cover up fear.
Fear is the great motivator as I have heard it said. I remember when Steve Ballmer of Microsoft was claiming Linux is a cancer and the response from the open-source community was FUD. Ballmer was spreading fear, uncertainty and doubt. This sales tactic is directly related to what I am trying to communicate.
In the end I do not know. In the context of this, why be afraid if there is no reason to be. Sure, I am not pleased when bad or painful things happen but it takes mistakes, pain and all the disappointment and the list could go on and on, but these are not pleasant as it takes a negative reaction to have any opportunity or hope for real, true growth. Lucky is one thing. Being given what one desires is another. Growth does not just happen as it takes more than just work. A painful event and reflection leading to insight and knowledge are one path to growth.
As I ask myself today, why have I been governed by fear the past many weeks? I see in this moment that being afraid of something that is probably not going to happen or even if it is a low chance to, why am I running away from all those mistakes that make success if I just get through the tough part, take the effort to learn and then use new experiences to grow?
I am not suggesting wreck less or blatant behavior here. I am telling myself to allow more mistakes or to accept I may sustain some form of injury be that emotional or otherwise.
No stepping in front of buses or looking down the barrel of a gun but fall down, get up and keep going towards growth. I bet I will meet happiness in many forms along the way.
Can something viewed as fake or synthetic be seen as real either within oneself or in others? The default correct answer here is it depends in my mind.
I have and continue to struggle and this is one of the foundations in this fight I have. I need so badly to be seen as myself. This is not an easy thing to achieve as a trans woman. Others cannot read my mind or know my soul but they can see with their eyes. The human eye is powerful and influential to people as a generality and so often experiences in my life support this.
The conundrum is I do not pass as a cis woman and synthetic or prosthetics can help me get closer. The hesitation is I will not be seen. The temporary augmentation is not real in a sense.
I could get surgery or do any number of things to make changes permanent. I am not rich and I have work to do in my thoughts before I could, not to mention the expense I cannot currently afford.
I do have a few wigs and prosthetic hips. I have not worn a wig in quite a long time. I supplement with a hat to help me not feel like a flashing neon target. I do not wear the hips, I did once but that was a trial and not much else.
Back to my opening question, can something synthetic be real? I am not asking in the Pinocchio sense or can synthetic become organic but in the representation way. Can artificial be, even if within ones own self, real and not an illusion, facade or lie?
I have to say yes, it is possible. The person of my last post I think can testify to that, though I have not asked. I know this can be for myself and that is the true and final evaluation that I am looking for this morning.
As I know this can be in one aspect, how can or could I transfer this from an external entity to self? This is where the division is in me. I can bring sytnthetik into reality and it be ‘real’ but what about me? can I add something or temporarily modify my appearance and feel real, beyond makeup, clothes or accessories?
I have not found my place in this world and life at this point. I an pushing and pulling with more effort, endurance and strength than I thought I could employ in a much longer timeline by factors I cannot comprehend. While this now accessible and no longer dormant, the ability I still seek out on the path to get closer to where I must go.
I think often and as far back as I can remember the notion that represents how I feel; Am I alien and everyone else human or it it the other way around. I could put on a face and act a part to fit in this world but that is acceptable to others. This is nothing but torture to me. I am done and walking out of this prison of torture that is relentless wherever I am or whatever I may do awake or asleep. In order for me to exist in any way I must take that long, treacherous and steep walk out of this hell I have been too afraid to leave.
Why is this idea so pervasive in the world I see around me? What does perfection attain?
I would guess one could make all sorts of statements on those questions and I do get caught up in that at times myself. When I take time to think about this after stepping back and calming down from whatever is pushing me to seek out some manner of perfection I desire to pull away from those excuses and notions that perfect is in some way better than imperfections.
What I find is happiness is a goal and perfection is not synonymous with happiness one does not lead to the other. They can have a relationship however lose that may be in my eye.
Why do people tend to achieve perfection? As I do not know nor can say with any authority, my guess is what it is. In this connected society of like buttons and all that entails where profit is the driver in the form on money or popularity, perfection is needy, selfish and puts the wants of others ahead of what I or someone may need to get closer to happiness more often. As happy is not a place on really stays and never leaves. We travel through or touch for a bit. Maybe we visit or live next door to happy and drop in for a tea or coffee. Like the sunrise and set or phases of the moon we are not always calmly and comfortably watching the sunrise. Phases and cycles are a part of life.
I have long been one to resist competing with others and often chose to measure against myself. This too has drawbacks and I would like to remember I can slow down, relax and just see if happy is up for an afternoon chat or lunch meetup.
I am fallible as I am human. Perfection is a target that cannot remain still. Hit it once and it has moved before one can tray again. Goals are important and so can the path those goals take as I see it.
Why don’t I not make time with happiness and not a mirage of what happiness might be as the world around me appears to be selling. I am not in the mood to be sold what I do not need today.
In my dismissal of perfection I may be closer to heading i the direction of purpose and that sounds like a far more enjoyable and fruitful journey to a day with happy to me.
There is a fine line between a conversation that is constructive and one that is not. I think this often is delineated by intent. Another sketchy area is labels. For me gender and orientation come to mind as a topic where labels are often just too much to drag into things.
For intent, what all involved bring to the conversation and any existing history amongst them is a factor that can set a tone for judgement as a pretext. If this weighing of others is a heavy part, then I would rather have no part myself.
I needed labels in a lot of ways but as a way to bring comprehension from communication I no longer see this as a proper method to get there. After mixing with judgement I tend to get a nasty concoction as a result.
I have found I give the ‘it depends’ or a overly broad set of words to most questions at the start. For example; if I am asked by someone I am not close with or in a group and I just want to be with people not debate about where or what to eat I have answered ‘I prefer food from the northern hemisphere general;y.’
It depends is more often than i acknowledge the only reasonable answer that is correct or accurate enough when you have two or more people. Throw in time and a response will hopefully change and evolve as we experience and learn. With the complexity some have in their mood as subtle as it may appear something so fundamental as what to eat gets stupidly complex, rapidly.
Labels have a place I know. Terms aid in communication and when other aspects that seem so predominant are added in it just gets messy.
I am human just as I hope we all are. I do not nor have any desire to get it all right and exhaust a thought I may communicate into every permutation of each minutia. I personally enjoy and respect a dose of enigma and personal perspective and interpretation. I like to have this in art be it as an observer or creator.
I hope I am not as alone as it would feel to want and need difference around me, it helps me learn, grow and understand. It is a way to make mistakes that circle back into learning and becoming a better person. This all comes crashing down when intent and judgement convert a conversation into a debate and pushes to have a right and wrong outcome. It is predisposed to end in a less useful result.
Be free and let others be free but stop and walk away before any harm is done.
I asked myself this question as I walked the streets of San Francisco. On this sunny Thanksgiving. I spent time with the city I love. I was going in the direction of Ocean Beach. As I cannot be with the people I would like to, I kept thinking to myself, where am I going?
After I opened the second package of Kleenex I used to wipe up the tears, I was struck with a thought carrying an inertia and a kinetic energy like the waves crashing on the beach with the power to destroy and sustain life.
I am already where I am going.
This transformed into an answer of what I was just asking myself in repetition.
Over the next mile to the beach I went up and down hills, both litteral and emotional.
I am still as I sit in Golden gate Park flowing over those mental and emotional hills.
I am already where I am going. Even as I have much to do in my journey, I am where I need to be. This in itself is where I need life to located. If I were at the end, then that is where I would be, not somewhere along the way.
I set out today after I created a playlist I titled ‘sad walk’ to find something I did not expect. To find comfort, just as I did.
As I carried my camera, some photos I took on my walk in the greatest city on earth, just exactly where I need to be.
Empress Em 