another world is possible

 

courage

haha awwww

 

memewhore

tennis is life (sometimes)

I watched a lot of early matches at the Australian Open, courtesy of my VPN and a free streaming site in Melbourne. Commentator and former champ Jim Courier, calling the Nadal/Berrettini semi-final, noted the Italian's lack of urgency. "Doesn't he realize that every point is a shoot out?" the American wondered.

The Italian of course lost and Nadal took the 2022 championship.

This mindset might apply to writing. Don't hold back, I remind myself. Pour everything you have into each story, each scene, every time, as much as you can. 

Every sentence is a shoot out.

bringing up the past

I've noticed a couple of (straight male) friends are hanging onto the past.

My past.

I've been divorced for nearly 12 years now and rarely think of my ex. I mean, months go by. Whole years. No hate, just moving on with my life and relieved and happy no longer to be partnered with the person and fairly certain they feel the same.

But these two friends can't seem to let go. They both stayed in touch with the ex, even though they were never really friends with the ex to begin with. One messaged me a year ago to say the ex was moving out of our former shared house and he (the friend) had met up with the ex and taken a few boxes the ex found while cleaning out the house. And could he (the friend) drop by with the boxes.

Well first of all, hell no.

And second of all, HELL NO.

I still haven't accepted the boxes. As far as I know they're still in the friend's garage. I'm mildly curious about what's in them but clearly there's nothing I've needed in the past twelve years. I'm more curious why this friend felt the need to do this. I offered, he said, when I asked why the fock he would even put himself in the middle of something so dumb. I wanted to help you both out. 

Friend two messaged me a month ago to tell me he'd had a dream about me and the ex and he wondered what it meant. It means you need to leave the past behind, I messaged back. I do wonder though why my friend felt the need to tell me about this particular dream, why dredge up someone I have been willingly and deliberately unpartnered from for a dozen years? 

A small part of me thinks there's some judgement lingering in there, some minor male outrage that I dared separate from someone who had done me no harm, but just whom I, a woman, no longer loved or needed to keep around to provide for me (and the ex did offer). There were no kids involved, no abuse, no financial misdeeds, just the pain of accepting the emotional truth and moving on. 

Not one woman in my life (that I know of) stayed in contact with my ex, none of them bring him up or keep shit he's been holding onto in their garages. I guess that is the metaphor. I've let go but my guy friends keep hanging on.

in creating you find something possibly even yourself

I’ve posted pictures of cement and walls and paint for quite a few years on this blog. Unintentional and interesting juxtapositions make me so happy.

On a walk and talk with a good friend this week, we discussed gatekeepers in the creative world. My pal has been opening doors and handing out markers and currently has a weekly gig at a local dive bar where notebooks, glitter and colorful pens are available to all.

It’s a gleefully anarchic space and I love it.

Masks look great on you!

Masks look great on you!

I am amazed

I'm amazed at the strength of women.

Growing up I learned to despise my gender. Religion taught me that women are the root of all sin and suffering in the world (Eve), responsible for men's worst impulses, that we're loud and nagging and weak generally too much. I thought of myself as a "guy's girl," proudly had few girlfriends and suppressed anything feminine about myself.

And then and then and then.

Today at the coffee shop I chatted with the two baristas, both Gen Z women, and the discussion meandered to boyfriends and the (straight) male refusal to wear coats.

Give me space, one shouted, only half-joking, meaning from the guy in her life.

I admitted I couldn't co-habitate because I must absolutely have my own space. This led to the price of housing and how it was cheaper to live together even if you didn't want to. Women earn less and take on more emotional and household labor and our so-called liberal paradises are unaffordable and so we are forced into cohabitation just to survive.

Have a great day queen, they called as I left.

Yesterday, a friend confided she'd walked into a music store she'd never been in before. It was empty except for six or seven guys sitting together at the back. She hesitated a moment. Come on in, they said, which made her hesitate another second more.

Seems like kind of a bro fest, she said, and the men were offended. How could she think this?

They don't even sense their own privilege in the world. They attack us and force us to justify and re-explain our concerns and even then they're grudging. 

We're so strong. I'm amazed.