lessons from september.

wow.

i just want to thank God for the pain first.  i couldn’t write without it.

the thing about me is that i was plagued with pain before i ever had to actually overcome painful circumstances.  i remember being five years old, feeling like i wasnt made for this world.  things have always affected me differently from other people.  i was always in panic mode, saddened by and in disbelief of the things that were happening in this world.  i absolutely could not believe that there were motherless children and hungry people.  i couldnt believe that people killed other people.  and most tragic for me was the idea that a life could be forgotten.  i prayed for hours that i would die before my mother or that we would die at the same time.  i cried if she was late coming home from work and didnt call.  and i took the time to pray for everyone that i knew, name by name, and then i would pray for the entire world.  because i knew then that i couldnt take the world, as it was.

i still feel like i cant take the world as it is now.  when i found out that a spelman student was gunned down while walking back to campus i burst into tears and shocked my damn self.  my mother begged me not to take it so hard; she said she worries about me because i take everything so personally and i cant carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. 

i suffer in relationships because few people truly understand my need for space.  i have to nest, i have to be alone, i have to make sense of things.  i still spend so much time praying, trying to understand.  if i dont do this, i cant function properly.  in relationships, i alter myself to be the kind of woman that my man needs. 

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my sister calls me strange and i know she’s right.  it always gets me when people call me and deliver bad news in the same matter that they’d deliver good news:

“Remember Suchandsuch from high school?  Yeah, he got shot twenty thousand times in a robbery, so yeah…he’s good and dead.”

or

“You know Soandso?  People used to always say she looked like you?  Yeah, she got hit by a bus and her body parts flew everywhere .  sad, huh?”

it’s clear to me that things like this dont impact most people the way it impacts me.  i’m depressed for days about things like this, begging God to help me reconcile with life.  How can things like this happen?  i am literally tortured by bad news.  i cannot watch crime television unless i have time for a three day depression. 

but i have to thank God for the sadness too.  because i could not be an artist without it. 

i’m coming to terms with the fact that being an artist is a process of constant growth.  you are essentially coming to terms with yourself, and you spend a lot of time dead alone.

in september, i understand that becoming an artist is a sacrifice.  you must sacrifice normalcy.  you must sacrifice friendships.  you must place art above other important aspects of life.

and what ive found to be most profound is that my development as an artist contradicts most of what i’ve been raised to believe i wanted.  i thought i wanted a huge family, but my artistry demands silence.  i cannot create with screaming children everywhere.  i always thought i wanted marriage, and a traditional family.  but my artistry requires a selfish amount of solitude.  and a luxurious amount of freedom.  marriage can easily feel like bondage.  what if my muse, my inspiration, is somewhere in South Africa?  what if i begin to feel that in order to create, i must leave?  Marriage means that even if my bank account says yes, my husband can say no.  and be within his own right!  ive been successfully indoctrinated with the belief that my greatest joy will come from having a husband and lots of children, but where will that leave my art?

in this month, i have defined my priorities as such:

1. GOD

2. FAMILY/AMALI/FRIENDS

4. ART

5. LOVE

in september, i understand that purging is important for me.  dishonesty will kill me.  i have to confess. everytime i write, its a confession.  i am so imperfect, so disgustingly uncool and cool simultaneously, so prone to poor decision making, so indecisive, so shamefully contradictory, so essentially awkward and embarassing and difficult to understand–which all makes me easy to love.

my conversations with people are often tell-all memoirs.  even if i’m embarassed about the things that i reveal about myself, i feel a little bit more free. perhaps thats what cutters feel?  my release is offering my personal experiences unselfishly and i get the fuck off on knowing that my experiences, however trivial, might assist someone else.

in september, i let the absolute love of my life go.  i set him free, watched him fly away, and smiled about it.  he knows i did it because i love us more than i love him.  i had to let him go now so that we’ll have a fighting chance at “us” later.  i am not, however, lying to myself.  as it stands now, no one compares.  he is the coolest man in the world to me and i believe God lets me hear  him…i mean, this man speaks to me…that’s why i put him behind my ear.

and if, in the meantime, someone else flies my way and steals my adoration, then i’m grateful for what he’s already shown me.  there is no limit on how many amazing people can come into my life and connect with my soul [and i invite people to do just that], but i am hell bent on being uniquely grateful for each one.

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in the month of october, i’ll be nestled inside the sun, writing some hot shit.

 

kisses to all the girls who phuck with marilyn monroe.

love to all the guys who never believed michael jackson did it.

peace to the middle east.