Made of Adam and Eve, Not Silicone.

We can’t all look the same. From the on start of your father’s sperm penetrating your mother’s egg, our genes are set. We have our mother’s hair or our father’s deep-set eyes. Our nose may go crooked when we smile and our skin may become rather dry in the winter but that is who we are. Perhaps our hair is unruly and doesn’t look like the model’s hair in the Pantene Pro-V ad. Our eyes might not be the “preferred” color for the opposite sex but they are a part of us. Why, then, do you think the beauty industry has such a strong grasp on young and older women? Is it to dissuade us from facing our real “face?” To make us unhappy with what we’ve got and to “better” ourselves? In a simple word, yes. Don’t get me wrong, I of all women have gone to the lengths so as to dye my hair an unnatural shade, to buy colored contacts and to apply anti-wrinkle cream at the age of twenty-four. Show me any magazine ad where the woman has not had 100 pounds of airbrushed makeup applied or twenty stylists succumbing to her every “beauty” need and I will buy that product. Show me a sustainable and un-enhanced beauty product and I might very well try it out. 

The question then arises, should I spend my time and money on such an endeavor in the chance the opposite sex would find me better suited for their taste? A much deeper and unassuming answer awaits. As a woman who has done the “dying,” the “bleaching,” the “plucking” and the “removal,” I can only offer this: If you ever plan on having a career or a family, don’t plan on having time to keep up such appearances. A family and a career and everyday stresses will lead to you looking, well, more like a working woman than a goddess. And therein lies the root of all our societies problems. If a man were to look for a wife who suits his aesthetic tastes, he should be ready to assume she will be spending most of her time preening and primping. Unless she has the money or the resources to hold up such a livelihood, he should be ready to see her bare all, unmasked and unkempt. 

Call me old-fashioned but in the age of woman’s rights, makeup was not a requirement but more of a luxury given to the upper class when the elite were seeking companions. In the same vein I wish to extend my comparison to men. A man nowadays holds much to his name and his credibility. A man in these times, during such economic turmoil needs to hold his own in such an unstable economy. Are these fair expectations for the male gender? I would say if men hold their self worth in their ability to provide for not only themselves but for a family, then they should expect their wife to be of substantial beauty. And by beauty, I mean by strength and respect. If a man cannot prize his family as a farmer prizes his land, then why does he work so hard to obtain such a life? I can only guess that what one finds fitting another finds distracting. 

Facebook: Friend or Foe?

As a functioning social-minded person of today, I find that Facebook lately has begun to grab more of my attention than that of my actual friends. Facebook is always there to advert my fingers from typing what I actually want to search for, such as “Adverse reactions to acetaminophen.” Instead my subconscious mind unknowingly types in www.facebook.com. There I am once again! Led to scroll through my friend’s status updates like a raccoon searching for his next piece of discarded buttered toast in the dumpster. Twiddling my thumbs for anticipation of the little red notification in the upper left bar, I anxiously await who saw my status update and/or newly updated profile picture and what kind of delicious comments I can gobble up. A feeling of accomplishment arises as I settle down in my green lazy-boy recliner and say to myself “Well done, you have shown the world a little piece of yourself once again and by the looks of it, people like you, they really like you.” Eventually, I forget what it was I wanted to accomplish on the computer in the first place and return to my mundane life, full of useless tasks such as work and actual eating. Sure, it might sound ridiculous to some, but Facebook has become my confidant, my friend in times of useless boredom and activity. It has become a place for the whole world to see who I really am.

On the other hand, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to life than Facebook. People have survived for centuries without the use of frequent “Lol’s” on their friend’s funny Facebook photo or having to remember their new password because their ex-boyfriend kept phishing their account. People must have gotten on somehow right? Which leads me to my next pondery. I was at work the other day, having issues with my coworker wanting to exchange “words” so to speak and I became flustered pink with panic. At first my face had a quizzical expression as if he had just told me to go spelunking on the river gorge after I had finished my banana avalanche. The realization had hit me that he actually wanted a response soon, so my first thought was, “Go get your keyboard and post a status update asking your friends what to do in this situation.” Alas, I could not retrieve my laptop or my smart phone so I was faced with a dilemma, a dilemma that demanded an answer. When one becomes confronted face to face with exchanging “real” emotions and actual sounds, can we use our silly face emoticon or say, “ROFL?” You could, I suppose but it might merit an unsolicited response to go straight to the Looney Bin. Could Facebook be taking away the basic knowledge and skill of interacting with each other?  Quite possibly.

In conclusion, I leave the audience with this: What did prehistoric folk do when faced with confrontation? Did they take a swing of the bat, or aim of the gun if they knew their livelihood was being threatened? I’m sure they did, but we live in the 21^st century, the century of Facebook, and for that I am grateful no persons will be hurt in the manufacturing of new messages, links, updates, or photos. It is then up to you to decide if Facebook has made you a better person, a person like me, or if Facebook has left you wanting more out of life like actual friends or a “real” life (whatever that is), then perhaps facebook has become your foe. By the way, your grandfather added me as a friend, I hope you don’t mind if we hangout, on Facebook that is. 

Love Thyself

Do you love yourself? Do you find meaning in your beautiful soul, do you applaud your heroic acts of waking up everyday to face the glowing pearl in the sky? If not, well, news flash: You are not going to find love if you do not find it in yourself first. And how does one go about finding that true inner peace of contentment in our own skin? We see the woman walking down santa rosa avenue, a few extra pounds, shaking her thighs in too tight cut-offs, heels so high. She's not ashamed to show off what her momma gave her, even if her momma forgot to wrap her gift in perfect shiny ribbons and silver bells. No sire, she holds her head up, facing onward and loving every minute of her seemingly perfect imperfections.

And so, my question is, how does one love themself before another can delve into that giant four-chambered organ responsible for the good in mankind? We see ourself according to the silent expectations society slowly creeps into our minds by way of television, internet, bus ads, you name it. We are programmed to want more, want it now and to question something once we get it. The motto for today's young population is "Always want what you can't have and once you have it, trade it in for something better." In a constant state of limbo, a slacker's paradise, we are becoming a degenerative generation where the motives for improvement stem from the exterior god of dissatisfaction. We see something we like, we have to have it now. If we can't have it, we pine, we pray, we do everything in our energy to attain it. Once we have it, what now? Do we cherish it or throw it away? And that is just how our love for ourself reflects our love for others.

Do we base our inner love for ourself on the exterior pleasures of fast cars, skimpy clothes, and loose sex? If and when we attain such things, are we any happier with what we've accomplished and where we're going? To acquire the seemingly impossible, the unreachable goals, the likes of almighty Mt. Everest's glory. What's it all for? Recognition, money, fame? Things that you can't take with you to the grave. We morph ourself to fit into a world full of misfits, only those who "seem" normal or molded for this society build themselves up for it. They work out at the gym for hours a day to get the perfect beach body, they dye their hair to match their "inner personality," (when in reality, they all seem to have the same personality in L.A.) We mock what we do not understand, what is different from us. We flee from uniqueness when we really should embrace it. The world is not black and white, there is not one correct way of doing something or one type of look that is deemed "attractive." We are all beautiful in our flawed, imperfect ways. When we realize and accept this, that is the real meaning of loving thyself.

Catching Flies

Contemptuous thoughts that fill my mind, so many attempts at trying to do right in a world full of wrongs. I see her sleep on her soft white side, the pillow heavy with a ball of black wavy hair. Peace at last. The never-ending race of running towards heaven has now reached the finish line. But for a few hours, bliss can be known as our lids begin to flutter to the waves of thoughtless oceans. Crowds of hands clap to the appraisal of adoration, babies with sparkling blue eyes yearn for a caring touch. Friends and past lovers come together for the final curtain to draw.

Here we are, standing at life's boundless stage, ready for an encore or the flight of red fruit's regret to come our way. Hello tomorrow, today has come and gone. What was once a promise turns to a question, was it really real all along? It's easy to wander through this desert of quandary, to find shelter in life's casting shadows, but when it's all over and done with, will there be a light in a tunnel or simple dirt on our halos?

I see the quick-legged spider exploring each crevice as if he knew where he was going. Sometimes he stops for a fly, then picks up his brown body in search of refuge to build a home. Many times he goes unnoticed and his destiny is reached, but many times his path is interrupted by a giant flying paper, having the final say in this spider's life. Are we living unnoticed, building nests in safety's clutches or are we taking chances, risking the plight of paper's flight?

Sand

How many times can a heart break before it forgets how to put itself back together. If not once, but thousands of times I let you in to dance to my mind's desire and assume your way perfectly into this relational resume. You, then, being perfect and complete, find your hands on another temptress' bosom. Far away from our cheerful gazes and soft midnight embraces, you stumble into the darkness of her forlorn touch. You cast your eyes away from the one who is as a rock, grounded by the currents never ending tide. Now shaven pieces lay glistening on the sandy cove. What once was a part of solid promise, washes on the shore, waiting to be picked up and cleaned for perhaps a new chance at being adorned once again. A shallow blue wave swallows the dirt beneath my plight, two hundred more come to devour me in the night. Embedded in this earth of shallow soil, further and further I sink in it. I am no longer recognizable, the toss and sway of the oceans tumble, chips away at my being in this exposed state, left to fumble. Barrels of salt water flee from this desolate place. Wanting to savour the unbeknownst feeling of a true love's taste. Now I wish for eternal slumber and perhaps to wake up to a new horizon. Shh little darling, don't be afraid. One day the flood gates will burst, one day there will be no more pain.

Some food for thought in these hard times.

In turn of recent events and realizations, I've come to the conclusion that you can't buy happiness or love. You may think if you only had that ONE special thing, the everlasting gobstopper of youth or the infinite supply of coolness and style then you'd be set for life. For women, it's attaining that supreme level of attractiveness and sparking desire in the opposite sex, to gain security, understanding, and most of all, love. For men, it's being recognized for your strength, talent and sometimes, bank account. In a world that feeds off of instant gratification and gadgets that fill every need, it's easy to lose ourself and our patience.

We want things done now, our way, on our schedule or it's not going to happen at all. We would almost rather be alone than finding someone who makes us laugh but can't coordinate with your schedule or perfect ideals. I've realized, that when it comes down to it, there is never enough raw exception of another individual for who they were born to be, rather a constant tweaking and critiquing of their faults. Were we meant to go through life trying to fill that void with materials and perfection, or were we simply meant to live and let live? It seems the latter is getting harder and harder to do, but not if you look hard enough for the person behind the exterior.

Just a Thought...

Imagine for one minute, you open your eyes for the first time to the brightness of the florescent hospital lights. You take your first breath and cry your first tears. You have just been cut off from your main food source for the last nine months. You think, man, it was so warm and safe in there; now I'm in this cold, sterile place where people are fussing over me and putting me in weird contraptions. That's where I immediately thought to myself, "Why am I here?"

Still, to this day, I ask myself this absolute question. Why are there planets, galaxies, stars, atoms, and Rosie O'Donnell? Why do I have to go to school for x-amount of years, complete said degree to receive this rare green paper to buy the things that distract me from the ever impending question of who I really am and where I come from. I think someone should at least devote their entire existence to finding out how their existence and all other life came to be. That should be a career in itself and whoever finds the answer will become the first president of the entire universe. I know, you're probably thinking I sound like a certifiable nut cracker, but you have to admit you thought the same thing at one point in your existence.