Not a Mac Truck, Not Quite a Butterfly

Why can't I be accepted as the somewhere in-between? Why is it most women are comfortable with my dualistic nature of strength and autonomy?

But men, oh you men, you hate to see a woman like myself possibly be more of a Mac Truck than you could ever be. You degrade me when you sense that I have an aire of confidence and strength, in a an effort to bring me down to your to your low, juvenile comprehension level. You see my strength and independence as a direct challenge to your not fully-formed manhood and think of ways to attack me.

Your most common form of attack is the tired but true hyper-sexualization of me. You boil everything I am down, all that I am created of and from, and amass it to one large sexual character. I go from possibly being the next great tech or legal mind, to being the next best Betty Boop.

Excuse me for not being the easiest thing you've ever done in your life, disallowing for a very undeserving pat on the back. I apologize for being tall, I actually think this is not directly my fault, as it is the fault of my parents. I apologize for calling you on your weak shit, you want all the luxuries and benefits of a good boyfriend and partner, yet you barely scrape by as a passable early Tuesday evening date. Forgive me for requiring that you respect my virtue, and when you don't putting you in the place where you belong; repeatedly. Apologies if I simply don't appreciate being lied to, lead-on, or push-pinned..you know what push-pinned is...that thing you do where you pretend you're soooo tormented over the idea that you can't be with me now, so you'll just put a push-pin in me until you're over your whole selfish, self-righteous, wannabe Wilt Chamberlin phase.

Just because I'm not a butterfly, doesn't mean I'm a Mac truck. I have feelings, I care (sometimes), I definitely notice, I like strong men, I like smart men, I love men who honor women, I don't want to be in charge at home, I'm in charge plenty at the office all day (of other men mind you). Stop the b-s and recognize me for the woman I present to you, all day every day.

Why is she so....

Angry: because of the hand she was dealt. Her entire life she's been playing catch-up, still only to be in the outfield.

Non-committal: because not even her own blood could commit to loving her for a lifetime, so why would she commit to anything?

Sad: because she is alone, not the kind that can be remedied by online dating, but the kind that lasts forever. The kind that you're either born with or without.

Driven: because when you're alone, procrastination can be deadly, so being driven is your only option

Loyal: because her "friends" are her family and when she actually grants you this title, it's meant to be for life..

This thing called life is sometimes to heavy to carry all by myself. My neighbor yesterday asked me why I was carrying my fridge up the stairs without help, I could only reply "because I'm alone, I have no help". Just because I'm strong doesn't mean I'm not fragile also. I'm tired of being called pretty, beautiful, sexy, all these empty terms that may as well be insults if there are no actions that support them. The Rabbi asked me what I feel about family, I told him I know nothing of it. Attempts at re-creating that feeling I think you get from family (what I gathered from TV) have failed miserably.

I'm tired, exhausted even, wish I could just float in a sea of happiness not littered with lies, pretention, deceit. Humble is as humble does, but at some point humble gets run over. If I've ever told you I hate you, its because at that very moment I actually did.

My rambling is not from a place of sickness but rather a place of nothingness. All people fail me, and I should only be so lucky to one day meet someone who doesn't actually make it a point to.

Not Loved By "Fill in the Blank"

What makes a person un-lovable? I should probably ask myself that question, for it seems I will live my existence having never known what its like to be loved.

I watch the news and read newspapers about murderers, rapists, burglars, people who are supposed to bear the mark of shame in our society. I read about how their 'loved ones' protect their presumed innocence and rally around them so they can feel a sense of support and care.

I look at mothers, parents, and how their love is unconditional, unwavering, strong, pure, even for children who disappoint, disrespect, and prove to be apathetic towards everyone.

I look at people who own pets and how they laud them with affection and treats forging family like bonds with these non-human beings.

And then I look at me......Natasha never wanted me, I was one of those mistakes that happened because her 17 year old self was too selfish use a condom, to swallow a pill, to keep her hormones at bay. From the moment of inception I'm certain I could taste her vitriol as it slithered its way down through the placenta to my heart, trying to warn me about the hatred and loneliness I would face outside the womb.

Once birthed at the ripe age of 18, Natasha was relieved to no longer be physically connected to me the mistake, and it showed. In every neglected opportunity to hug, kiss, or even pat my head in approval I shrank smaller in size, trying to become as invisible as I felt. My cloak of invisibility was apparently so strong, that it also prevented grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc from expressing one "I Love You". Of course, no orphaned child was told of love at the shelters, foster homes, and group homes I resided in, this would have been laughable.

I grew thinking that it was okay, one day (according to movies and tv) a guy would love me, even though we weren't related..imagine that! I was pretty stoked on the idea of having someone actually like me, but to love me was something I could only hope and wait for. Silly girl I was, and still am.

I must have forgotten the birthmark of un-lovable I have burned into me. I have had boyfriend after boyfriend and never one who has fallen under the spell of love...barely capable of saying like. But wait, isn't this supposed to be my time, the time when I can surround myself only with people that love and care for me?

I'm a girl..a woman...all alone..in my late-twenties..still without love. Still don't know what its like to be 'had' to have someone feel incomplete without me. I still don't know what its like to feel protected, wanted, belonging, like I matter.

I have loved, even those like Natasha who I knew didn't return the feeling. The funny thing about love is that its incomplete without the return of it from someone, without the reciprocal.

I imagine I will die feeling un-loved. Lying cold in my casket, presumed to be void of anything, I will still have the stone that lies where my heart was; rough jagged edges, dark like onyx, dry like Saharan sand, and sadly unloved.

Oh btw..I love you

I Wish I Was Eternally

Basically, I wished that you love me.

I wish that you needed me.

I wish that you knew when I said 2 sugars, actually I meant 3.

I wish that without me your heart would break.

I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake.

I wish that without me you couldn't eat.

I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep.



Some other soul wrote this, whom I've never met, yet we share this emptiness.

Appreciation is earned, even by yourself

Maybe I appreciate things more, because most things are things I've never had before.

Currently a contractor in part because I crave my freedom (another something missing from my childhood), I have no medical insurance. I know, I know, quelle horreur, such a shame that as an American who pays about 30% of my income in taxes each year I'm not covered under some sort of plan, at the very least for emergencies. I mean I have paid so much to the Social Security Administration that I will never get to see in my lifetime, and as a citizen who is proven to be a hard-working contributor to NY state and America, you'd think I would see some restitution. Ha!

However, this post is actually a happy one. Its to highlight that even as a paid contractor with no insurance, that when I contract a serious illness and need emergency services, I actually have the cash in my bank account, and even a little credit card just in case my cash flow is funny. This isn't about gloating, its about the sincere pride and gratitude I feel for having the ability to pay a $700 medical Bill at the time of my visit without a sweat.

I remember eating powdered milk as a child, scraping loose change up in my dorm as a Freshman, only able to find enough for a small McDonald's fry and hamburger, living in a hotel for 5 days at 20 years old a few weeks after my undergrad graduation. I visited my first dentist at 17, cocoa butter and aspirin fixed every ailment growing up, roach infested houses I slept with tissue in my ears and nose while living in.

I appreciate the hell out of all that I have now. I appreciate the brain G-d gave me and the spirit to never stop fighting.

Tonight and forever I am grateful

Why I Am So 'Me Centric' Me, Me, Me, Me!

I spent every single day of my life as a child making promises to myself to fill all the holes the 'adults' had created for me.

I promised not to be poor, not to be unintelligent, not to be without a career and money to care for myself. I promised to be a honest person who would own up to their faults, I even promised that if one day I had a child I would break the chain, and actually love it.

However, even with all of those promises there are somethings I have no control over.

I can't give myself a mother that loves me. I can't give myself a family that loves me or supports me.

I can't even give myself a man that will respect my strengths, accept and work with me on my weaknesses, and simply love me as wholly as I would love him.

But, I can work really hard at earning things and ensuring that I keep those 'little girl lost' promises to myself.

So if you find yourself wondering why I resigned another position, moved across country again, told a flaky friend to exclude me from their life, or pushed another fake boyfriend away, its because I'm doing me, me, me!

When We Two Parted- by Lord Byron

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow--
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shrudder comes o'er me--
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee so well--
Long, long I shall rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met--
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?--
With silence and tears.