when the world needs my signature dose of truth to power

on choices

we shouldn't be surprised by the amount of depravity the internet—originator of two girls, one cup—can trot out, but the comments on this photo essay documenting domestic violence are revolting nonetheless. many call out the victim for not making better choices in her relationships. but who are these people for whom it is so easy to choose a white picket fences life with the perfect job and perfect spouse? lord knows it would behoove me, an foregone artist, to live off the earnings of a millionaire, but i wouldn't know where to meet one and certainly wouldn't make it past his/her security guard if i did. what's your secret, kate middleton? it's not easy for any of us to escape the life we're born into. some of us, like me, are lucky enough that we don't have to escape. but others seem to take up endlessly berating those who exhibit a shocking lack of free choice. perhaps they do so to fulfill the fantasy that america is a meritocracy, and that everything they want is within their reach, even as they grasp at fleeting mirages and thin air.

bossypants

i've been rediscovering the joys of reading—oh, orlando!—that pasttime where it's ok to let your body be a vegetable and have your mind's adventures count as activity (a shocking revelation to a compulsive go-getter).

there's this part in tina fey's book, where she writes about how most women come to realize they are a woman, by the sexual harassment they receive. i beg to differ. sexual harassment sends me careening backwards to being a girl and just discovering these awkward lumps on my body, whose strange formations would be used as a weapon against my sense of self. being a girl means having your life at the mercy of others, subject to their sneering battering at any moment and not having the tools to defend yourself. this is the quintessential feeling of shame and helplessness that street harassers try to elicit.

conversely, i first crossed the threshold into woman-ness maybe one, two years ago, when i was able to step back, look at my life, and realize that i had my shit together. and i realized something more, that no matter what pits of misery life would throw me into, i would never lose my ability to get my shit together, and that no one, no one catcalling from the street, could take that away from me. it took a lot of fucking up and emotional immaturity before i reached this state of zen-like enlightenment. i always thought being a woman connoted being someone with shoulder pads and no sense of humor, but actually, it's pretty awesome to be out of the girl phase of my life. i am woman, hear me roar!

amalgam

life lately has been so amazing at times that i have had to pinch myself to confirm that, yes, indeed, my wildest dreams are coming true and i am becoming every day, the person i am meant to be. at the same time, because karma likes to exact a payment to keep the balance of the universe at a precarious zero, life has been incredibly trying.

ruben's mother was diagnosed with lung cancer last fall, and had her final surgery a week ago. we've spent the days watching her in the icu, confronting for the first time the meaning of death. before i used to always imagine death in its abortive forms - car crash, heart attack, not waking up in the morning. but death, or maybe life, has proved itself to be slow, soft, and cruel. when they say that there is no cure for cancer, they're not referring to a gap in the medical field, but rather, a gap in the human spirit. there are doctors, and hospital beds, and radiation, and nurses, and machines that go beep and artificial hearts, artificial any part of a body one may desire. science is so advanced now that it can beat cancer. it just takes so long that the human spirit often collapses before the body reaches the finish line.

she cries out sometimes in the night, trying to pull out her breathing tube and denying she can hold on much longer, even though we tell her she is getting more beautiful and healthier every day. given the emotional valleys into which we fall every time we visit, i can only imagine the abyss that grips her every moment she lies in that hospital bed, and whose darkness flashes through the cracks of her narcotics-fueled nightmares.

it is the hardest feeling to watch her bruised body curled up in the hospital bed, shaking every time she feels a jolt of pain, and knowing that there is nothing to do but wait, wait. watch and see how she is tightly nestled in a fetal position, her skin trembling with the fragility of a newborn. we are back where we started, with what we always knew—that life is fragile, but the threat of loss unravels us every time.

please send her your love and encouragement.

a friend recently inspired me to start making lists of my favorite songs again. if only i could choose. last night after a particularly cathartic crit session i spent the night driving around los angeles playing 'pictures of you' on repeat. here's what i've been spinning a lot:

1. friday i'm in love - the cure
2. i like fucking - bikini kill
3. maps - yeah yeah yeahs (of course, and yes, i did start crying the last time i listened to it)
4. april skies - the jesus and mary chain THEME SONG
5. lilac wine - nina simone/wild is the wind - nina simone TIE
7. anna and the buffalo - sunset rubdown
8. california - joni mitchell
9. call your girlfriend - robyn/dancing on my own - robyn TIE

 it gets difficult after nina. i think it's easier for there to be a list of honorary mentions. but, a beginning?

speaking as a person who, as a child, always scrounged under the grocery vending machines for candy that had fallen to the floor because sugar was decidedly not in the family meal budget, cory booker, you may be my new favorite politician.

on stakes

life can be read as an accumulation of many things - wrinkles, embarrassments, wisdom. it is also an accumulation of stakes. we lay out our lives brick by brick, and as the house we build grows higher, the more we have to lose becomes palpable. if ever the foundation gives way, we are one earthquake away from becoming the next cardboard prophet on the streets. and it's not just ourselves - it's the family, children, and loved ones that we've invited to stay with us over time. that is what is meant by stakes. stakes are the pieces of wood that we use to secure our fluttering tent in the wilderness, tying us to the place beneath our feet however temporarily. if we're not careful, they may also drive us into the ground.