I’m about as outspoken as a kitten snoozing on a laptop charger. I know this. There are moments where I’m wide awake and “on it” in ways that are sometimes too honest, and I had one of those nights a while ago. I wasn’t embarrassed, though. I felt heated afterward. I felt strange. Some of the feelings in that honesty were what I call “residue”. They are passing feelings that always stick in my mind and heart, but not exactly feelings I carry around with me on a surface level.
I can’t explain to people why I still have any feelings or thoughts about either of my exes. I can’t explain why I’m what most would call “oversexed”. I am who I am, and I think that Maya’s death sort of made me re-think a lot of things concerning censorship, self love, and my worth as a woman. I say this because so many people were white-washing her history as a prostitute and other things. Not white-washing as in, removing the “color” from it, but more like focusing on the pristine parts of who she was. Forgetting that her strength and eloquence came from not only her natural talents, but from surviving a lot of moments that could have torn her apart. She rose, she wrote, she shared her life. She changed, but she didn’t forget where she came from.
I then worried that all this exposure and expression would cost me everything, from my SGI appointment to a future writing career, to jobs I’ve yet to have. But, in reality, I’d been “digging the grave” for myself a long time ago. So someday, somebody will find the wild moments, the risque moments, and the pure raunch. And maybe all my followers and fans will see me in such a way that will shun me…or maybe they will celebrate me. I don’t know.
What I do know is that censorship of the self is sometimes necessary, but sometimes is not. Sometimes it just drives folks to a batty place where so much is inside that they burst. Even if it’s stuff you wish wasn’t there, you have to face it. You have to face it and blush. You have to face it and groan and wonder what the hell’s wrong with you. You have to face it and decide if you’re going to be very bright about it, or very stupid about it.
I also feel like in all that expression, for some reason I need to explain to every watcher that these feelings are not necessarily permanent ones. That I end up feeling happy about not hearing from exes, and I don’t resent them. It’s just that sometimes, I think about them and wonder about them randomly. Sometimes the thoughts linger and bring up a lotta crap. Sometimes it passes, and I wish them the best despite getting and giving the worst in my time with them. But I never feel compelled to get back into anything with them, because nothing ever works out. You learn that lesson 60 times, you wake up and smell the coffee. But, isn’t it all self-explanatory? Who do I need to convince here–the readers, the exes (who might be watching lol), or the typist who lives this each day? Explain what? Let my life show it.
I decided to be bright about it and block all my exes on all the things. That way I couldn’t talk to them, and they couldn’t talk to me. That way, there would be no new craziness or old craziness, or anyone using anyone else for feelings or sex or lies, or whatever egos needed this time around. I did it to work on stopping myself from looking back. I don’t know how ready I am to move ahead and find new people (I oughta be, by now and after all the things…jeez lady, move faster!) because finding newness means starting over. It’s been so long since I’ve had to, despite seeing so many beautiful souls I’d love to start with. Just someone to talk to, play video games with, and have a reason to go back to Millennium Park.
I know every detail of what I want, which is probably asking for too much in itself. However, I feel like that little series of sexual outbursts and “truths” I had on Tumblr days ago was making room for bigger, better things. There is no maybe or maybe not. I KNOW I’m making room for it. So, I went crazy, had my moment, and live goes on.
Musings of a Strange Catbear 