Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Temporarily Out of Order

My cable modem is on the fritz.
Don't know when it will be fixed.
Send money!

Friday, January 27, 2006

Temporary Dislocation

Dear Friends,
I'm blog-sitting at Anonymous Assclown for a couple days. Although I'm not sure what I did to deserve this degrading assignment, I'll try to cope the best I can. I won't blame you for not coming to see me there. It's unpleasant ... rather like visiting a putrid cistern.
But please-o-please, don't forget me.

Much Love, ~ T ~

Monday, January 23, 2006

I Hate Myself in Your Eyes

Even though I knew it was bound to end badly, a little part of me was flattered and curious. I should have listened to my conscience, but when I heard her story and felt her longing, it broke my heart to think of disappointing her. Against my better judgment, I heard myself cheerfully say, "Yes, I’d love to". The thin lilt in my voice might have seemed transparent to anyone who wasn’t in pain.

She was a victim of a long-term relationship that ended in betrayal. Tossed to the curb, scratching and clawing with a willingness to do anything to be welcomed back home. When she found me, she pretended to be whole. I pretended to believe her as I watched her crawl across the floor in a desperate effort to collect the scattered bits of herself. I should have helped her, but I lacked the courage. I told myself I had something in my eye.

After 4 dates, she told me that she loved me. I didn’t know what to say, but as I studied her face I saw things that repulsed me. The most honest response I could muster was a smile of genuine pity. I drew her close to me so I didn’t have to see her eyes any more. I hated that her abject loneliness made her say such things when I never gave her anything worth loving.

She accepted scraps from me, all the while desperately dancing around my feet, begging for more. I listened to her anguish and accepted her gifts and affection, more from my own guilt than any real interest. The longer it went on, the worse I felt. I became cold and hard toward her vulnerability, a stranger to myself. My emotional withdrawal only increased her efforts to please me.

I was relieved when she said she just wanted to be friends. A stone was lifted, and I felt free for the first time in what seemed like forever. In that moment of farewell, she became lovely and beautiful for the first time. She no longer reflected the frail and destitute parts of myself that I despise.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Who are you?

What do you do?
What do you mean?
What do you do for a living?
I have a job.
That’s what I mean. What’s your job?
Oh, it’s just a job.
Where do you work?
Company X.
What do you do there?
Mostly I work … I also goof off a bit when things are slow.
*sigh* What kind of work do you do?
Its just work. Why do you ask?
I’m trying to get to know you.
Oh … … What have you learned so far?
Maybe it's the questions.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

... of Love, Lust and Sex

Dick and Jane Discuss Chemistry
Go read it at Laughable Old Fool.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Stupid Theresa Story #2

In honor of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, I’m re-posting the story of my most embarrassing moment of ALL TIME … also, I was busy all weekend and couldn’t come up with anything new.

Is That Your White Girl in the Pile of Coats?

This is the second of the Stupid Theresa Stories. Don't worry, I honestly don’t think I’m stupid. But damn if I haven’t had my head up my ass once or twice as a little challenge to that statement. The following story is probably about the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done.

The first University I attended was in my hometown. The only reason I went there was because I was recruited by the music department and they offered me a scholarship. I studied music until it became blatantly apparent to everyone that I’m a people-person and keeping me trapped in a practice room 6 hours a day for 4 years was nothing short of torture.

The following year I transferred to a small liberal arts college outside Chicago. I lived in the dorms and my roommate was a black woman from a predominantly black neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. You couldn’t have found two Americans with more diverse backgrounds to put in a room together. Generally we got along great and I found the experience fascinating.

Missy had a great sense of humor. One of her favorite things to joke about was Me. In particular, she liked to make shit of how naïve I was; how there were more people living on her block than there were in my whole town; and how few street smarts I had compared to book smarts … Oh, and I can’t forget about her very favorite subject: my white hot virginity. Hey! Doesn’t everyone love to have their virginity discussed at length in the dormitory cafeteria on Casserole Night? But, despite it all, she was funny and I’m generally a good sport. We were good friends and spent a lot of time together.

As Thanksgiving rolled around, I realized I was short of cash and enormously busy with dozens of projects. There was no way I was going to be able to go home to be with my family. Missy came to my rescue and invited me to spend the holiday with her family in the City. I was very excited to meet all the people she’d been talking about throughout the semester.

On Thanksgiving day, Missy borrowed a school van to drive in to Chicago for dinner. As she drove, she explained that white people don’t go into her neighborhood. but since I was with her everything would be okay. It was then that I realized that this holiday probably wouldn’t be like the traditional Norwegian Lutheran Thanksgivings back home in Cedar Falls, Iowa.

Missy continued the tour by pointing out the places where different gangs had fought over territory. Her own boyfriend had just been released from prison after serving a sentence for manslaughter. He was an officer in one of the gangs. I’d met him once and liked him, but I hated his friends who were always pawing at me and offering to help me out with my virginity problem. Missy and I clearly came from very different places, but what mattered was that we were friends and her family had welcomed me to their home.

As we pulled up in front of Missy’s Mama’s house, I took a deep breath and tried to remember all the manners I needed in order to be a guest in someone’s home. I knew that people would probably be watching me and I didn’t want to be rude or insulting. I found out how much I was being watched when I stepped out of the van.

As soon as I heard the van door close, two children across the street hollered for their mother and ran inside "Mama, there’s a white lady outside. MaaaMaaaaaa!"

Missy and I both laughed and I followed her up the porch steps and into the foyer of her childhood home. The house was already full when we entered, and there were many greetings and introductions. I was cautious and paid attention to how other people did things. I was hoping to be allowed to observe before being put in the spotlight, however apparently I was too new to ignore. Once the greetings were passed around and the coats were collected, all eyes were on me.

Frantically, my mind searched for the right and proper thing to do. AHA! Gratitude and compliments about Missy’s Mama’s home.

I cleared my throat and said, "Thank you for inviting me to join your family today. Your home is beautiful. It’s a warm and inviting place to spend the Holiday."

… And I should have shut the hell up because that was exactly enough to say. But instead, I decided to insert my big head into my equally big ass in front of a room full of strangers … wait, not exactly a room full of strangers … These were the people Missy had been telling what a naïve twit I was during the previous three months. To prove her right, I kept talking ...

Without even bothering to look at a photo on the wall, I turned to Missy and said, "Is that a picture of your Dad?"

The room went perfectly silent … and then the belly laughs started … and then Missy got to make her big announcement, "See what I mean about this girl? She is the whitest girl I have ever met in my life!"

I turned to look at the photo on the wall again. When the image finally registered in my brain, all the blood left my face and I became even whiter. Indeed my friends, it was a picture of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I spent the next few hours nodding and staring at my feet while I took all the jibing that I richly deserved. It wasn’t so bad, and overall it turned out to be a great day. In fact, later in the evening I ended up making-out with Missy’s gorgeous brother on a pile of guest coats in the back bedroom. I highly recommend copious amounts of kissing and groping with an Airforce Hottie as a remedy for almost any incident involving humiliation.

When I think about that story, I wonder if they still remember it and laugh like I do?

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Community Project / Secret Hot Chik Plan

The following is an informal, non-scientific survey designed to gather information for the purpose of the creation of an art project. In order to complete it, I need help from folks like you. You’ll notice 4 somewhat challenging questions below.

There are no right or wrong answers to the questions. Interpretation of the questions is open to survey participants. The answers to the questions will remain anonymous unless permission is granted down the road. These answers serve the purpose of providing raw material, as well as inspiration for the project. In essence, the plan is to use your words as one of the materials for sculpting the end product. Although I’m still in the process of developing my vision for the desired results, your participation is essential to my success.

You may answer on-blog as yourself, anonymously, or by email (go here for the email link).

Thank you for your anticipated time, energy and thoughtfulness.

  1. What makes a woman beautiful?
  2. What makes a woman sexy?
  3. What makes a woman unattractive?
  4. How have your opinions changed over time?
  5. Your gender?
  6. Your age?

Thank you very much for taking the time to respond to these questions. Since cultural rules and definitions are created by groups of people, not a single person, it’s important for me to develop an understanding of beauty based on others’ definitions as well as my own. Your input is critical to the end result.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

My Life as a Stripper

Regret is toxic. It keeps you from living your life. I’ve known tragic people who have harbored decades of regrets about the decisions they’ve made. They married the wrong person, made a bad career decision, trusted someone who wasn’t worthy, or found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time not knowing what to do. Even when really bad things happen to us, even when we screw up royally, we must allow ourselves time to grieve and then move on with the knowledge that we are stronger and wiser because of our experiences.

When I think back on my life, I’m grateful for the richness and diversity of my adventures … even those that turned ugly. I’m aware that I fall on my face more often that the average girl, but that may be because I fight the urge to let fear control me. I love the heady rush of stepping into the unknown, having faith that everything is going to be all right.

No one walks out their door every morning thinking, "Today, I’m going to make a mess of my life." At the very minimum, we exit the safety of our homes intent on getting through the day the best we can. That’s good enough. It’s even better when we can take our dreams and ambitions with us. There’s lively excitement and adventure when we strive to do better than simply making it to the end of the day.

Passion cannot exist without courage. You must face your fears in order to live a passionate life.

So now I suppose you’re wondering about the stripper reference in the title. Eh … I was just trying to get the porn surfers to drop by and artificially boost my hits. I put the site counter on the blog last January 11th. I wanted to reach 75,000 hits this year.

Okay, a little tidbit to wet your whistle. Twice, I was recruited by real-life strippers to join the ranks of the bare-tittie shakers. They promised to teach me the trade and make sure I made a crap-load of money. As a struggling college student, was I tempted by $3000+ a week? Nope … and definitely no regrets.

(No, that's not a picture of me. However, I do have an enviable collection of feather boas.)

Saturday, January 07, 2006

One of My Favorite Hot Chiks

Over the years I have developed a picture of what a human being living humanely is like. She is a person who understands, values and develops her body, finding it beautiful and useful; a person who is real and is willing to take risks, to be creative, to manifest competence, to change when the situation calls for it, and to find ways to accommodate to what is new and different, keeping that part of the old that is still useful and discarding what is not. -- Virginia Satir

I believe the greatest gift I can conceive of having from anyone is to be seen, heard, understood and touched by them. The greatest gift I can give is to see, hear, understand and touch another person. When this is done, I feel contact has been made. -- Virginia Satir

Our biggest problem as human beings is not knowing that we don't know. -- Virginia Satir

Virginia Satir ===> Hot Chik ! ! !

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

My Gift to You

Several years ago I had a job working as a Family Crisis Counselor. One of the best things about the job was the fact that we worked in teams. Because of that, we always had another set of ears and eyes, and we always had support when things got tough. My partner was the BEST! Her name was Emily.

The more I got to know Emily, the more I liked her. She was bright, kind, open-minded, hysterically funny, hard working and completely trustworthy. I think she had similar feelings for me because her husband used to refer to me as "the other woman" or Emily’s "wife".

One of the other striking things about Emily was that she was phenomenally beautiful in the physical sense. She had thick, dark brown hair and matching eyes that sparkled, especially when she was up to something mischievous. Her skin was flawless peaches and cream. It was a perfect setting for her naturally full, red lips. She had a perfect hourglass figure on her 5’9" frame. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone as stunning. And, the more I came to know her, the more I felt that way.

Imagine my shock when one day Emily shared with me how much she hated the way she looked. She told me that she felt ugly and fat, and she obsessively worried about becoming obese. I couldn’t believe that Emily didn’t see her extraordinary beauty the way I did. When I learned about her self-doubts it completely broke my heart.

One of the things I learned that day was that low self-esteem can strike nearly anyone.

I also learned the screeching pain of hearing such things from someone I dearly loved.

So this year I’m going to do something for myself and the people I care for. I’m going to banish the negative thoughts that have hovered about and picked on me for years. I’m going to try to see myself through the eyes of the people who love me instead of my tired old dirty lens of self-doubt.

Instead of believing I’m fat and ugly, I’m going to see myself as beautiful just the way I am.

Instead of believing I’m stupid, I’m going to remember that I’m sometimes clever, bright and articulate.

Instead of believing I’m worthless and lazy, I’m going to recognize my value even when I can't do everything I think I should.

Instead of believing I’m weak, I’m going to take a deep breath and move on, just like I’ve always done.

Instead of believing I’m selfish, I’m going to remember that my heart is loving and generous.

Instead of believing I’m a dork, I’m going to embrace my quirky uniqueness.

Instead of believing I’m dull and boring, I’m going to tell myself jokes until I giggle.

Instead of believing I’m unlovable, I’m going to be open to love, especially for myself.

This is my gift, because I love you very much.