Existential Crisis

yesterday evening i didn’t feel too well so i went to bed a bit earlier than usual (which means i was in bed before 7pm). i knew that going to sleep would mean i would be awake just after midnight ready to start my day and tired again before it actually began.  i found a novel i didn’t know i owned.  it was the type of book i generally would not read.  i’m not trying to come across as a literary snob because i am a fan of chic lit, but i oftentimes reconcile the genre as a modern reflection of the 19th century novels by women.  at any rate, there i was in bed reading a graphic ghetto novel.  by the third chapter i was entranced.  the writing style was basic, but that made it so much easier for me superimpose myself and my concept of the characters as i read.  by 11pm i lay the book back on the shelf smiling at the predictable but heartwarming ending.  i had laughed out loud and several times felt the tears welling up in my eyes.  i would not say this was the best novel i’d ever read, but last night i was moved by it.  maybe it had as much to do with my own life as it did the story as i could see parts of myself–my past, present and future–in the young heroine.  regardless, it was a reminder of why i love to read.  the joy i get from deeply submerging myself in the text and becoming something more that i ever imagined i could be is inexplicable.  within the finely crafted literature my life has intertwined with historical figures and fictional characters.  most importantly it is through the reflections of them that i learn more about myself and begin to see not only who i am, but who i long to be…

below are the lyrics (most of them) to Eryka Badu’s song In Love with You featuring Lion.  i can specifically remember the first time i heard this song, who i was with, where we were and EXACTLY what was happening.  it’s one of those songs that transport you back through time and space bringing back a particular memory and uplifting your spirit.  i’m thankful for the memories i have with this song.  i was given a cd with this and a few other songs and whenever i hear any of them i can’t contain the smile that seems to radiate from within–in fact i might even be blushing right now.

And she says she needs more than a friend
That’s all I ever been yo
Well one day you gon’ overstand yo badu
And I remember the first time that we met yo
How could I forget
When you smiled
And I turned and said to you
Yo, your pure and true

I’m in love with you, in love with you
I’m in love with you, in love with you
I’m in love with you, in love with you
I’m in love with you, in love with you, yeah

I’m so in love baby
I don’t care what your mama say
Standing in love lady
And I don’t care what your sister say
Yo badu I need ya

He said he’s really diggin me
I don’t know what to say
I can’t imagine why I feel so weak, say, say
That’s when he took my heart in his hands
And kissed it gently
He open up his lips then said this poetry
I’m in love with you, love with you
Love with you, love with you
Love with you, love with you
Love with you, love with you

I’m so in love baby
I don’t care what your brothers say, no
I’m so in love baby
I don’t care what the people say

this is what love should be!!!!

every morning “i am not my hair” by india aire plays on my playlist.  i have to admit that there are parts of me that would agree with the message within the song.  in fact, for a long time i held firm to the belief that my hair is an accessory–like my shoes–since i could change it just as easily.  over the past few weeks i’ve realized exactly how much of who i am remains intertwined with the boisterous curls or the straight shiny locks that fall to the middle of my back.  while i can not remember what my natural hair color actually is i vividly recall every hair cut (because they do not happen very often) which is usually a result of some seemingly drastic life change…

the day i found out my boyfriend was cheating i took a pair of kitchen shears to my mane and left a path of 10 inch bunches on the cold tile.

i was only 18, summer after my freshman year in college.  it was a hard year for me.  being away from everything familiar.  falling in love…and the resulting heartbreak.  realizing for the first time i was not as smart as everyone expected me to be.  the frustration heightened as i was submerged in the troubled dynamic of my sister’s marriage.  i chopped off my pigtails with some dollar store scissors and tossed them into the bathroom waste basked before showering and going to work at macys.

these are not the only instances, but they are arguably the most drastic.  every picture i have of myself my hair is long.  it’s like MY signature.  it’s time for me to create a new one because that is gone.

most people who believe they know me will find it rather surprising that i have certain prejudices and firmly held beliefs about caste and class.  while i am aware that some people may transcend their social status through hard work and a will to succeed, the “American Dream” happens to few.  there is a reason for this…within our capitalist society it is impossible to want something if it is easily attained so the rich stay rich so that the poor (including the poor who fail to comprehend their poverty-yes, that’s you the imagined middle class) continue to strive for the impossible.  now, what is most important here is the fact that when mating people seek a mate who has similar interests (and the rich understand that means financial interests above all others).  throughout history marriage has been more of a political and economic decision than based on the naivety of love.  within the caste system, degrees of separation between the different classes prevented the spark of romantic interest, but more importantly the responsibility to ones family removed all chance of marriage (albeit illicit romance did occur, but rarely led to more).  so, for people who strive to improve their social standing through marriage.  it is difficult, but not impossible.  the Cinderella story that little girls dream exists solely within that blissful state of sleep where anything remains possible.

in a conversation with a friend today i realized that i have had little interest in meeting anyone new (although it would be nice to have some human interaction on occasion) because i’m been taking the time to date myself.  over the last 7 years i’ve been involved in “relationships” that made it easy for me to lose myself.  now, i’m taking the time to find out what it is that i truly love, what my favorite things are, where i see myself in 5 or 10 years, what moves me, what makes me cry, and whatever else it is i would normally want to know about someone else.  i know that i love myself, but i want to be in love with myself–not to the point of complete narcissism, but enough that i can allow someone else to love me without being dependent upon it.

that said, i am still accepting dinner invitations because a girl still has to eat!