Some people say that you can never go home again. What if you really never had a home to begin with? I have been on the move since I was 2. Thanks to a punch happy father and a compliant mother, we went where the work was since he couldn't keep his fists from flying. So about every 2 years for the formative years, we moved. Must have gotten into my blood. After the divorce, we stayed in Savannah for the rest of the time. We lived in the same house from the last years of elementary school, on up through high school. So for a while it was stable, except everything around me was always changing. When we moved into said house, we were on a tract of land that was caught between the mid-town and south-side growth spurts. Overtime our wild woods turned into tract housing, a football field, a cinema and medical offices. While our 1/2 acre property remained unchanged, the world around it did. The house after we vacated it, went from a church thrift store to what it is now, demolished. It was only a matter of time.
When I moved to Atlanta, I couldn't find the right place. I moved here and there, until I found the cutest house I could ever have imagined. Then I got pregnant, and long story short... I had to move again.
When I fled the south, I had already done significant stints of time in other cities, and seen a few countries other than ours. I decided to continue to explore America, but avoided places I had already been. I moved to the desert. It called to me. I would dream at night about hearing the crunch of rock under my shoes, and the feel of the hot dry air on my skin. I was tired of a summer of rain in Atlanta, and needed to shed the nostalgia of negativity that was pervading my daily living there. The desert, while a pleasant place to live, is boring. So I kept moving. And moving.
Finally, I end up in the absolute LAST place on EARTH that I ever wanted to live. Los Angeles. City of Lost Angels... I think its just the city of the lost. I can't say that I don't like it, I do love the city and all that it has to offer but the people well, leave alot to be desired. However, the more and more I think about it, the more I think that it isn't just the people here, it has been the people everywhere. It is the people in America specifically. It mostly is me. I am always restless. I get bored very easily in the same place for too long. I suppose my philosophy is if it don't work, change it. If I don't like where I live, I move. If I don't like my job, I change it. This has led me down various paths and various places of residency. Yet, as I get older, I thought that this would change. It could be that I just haven't found the perfect place yet, or that maybe there is no perfect place. Maybe I have to make it that perfect place, by sticking around. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life in Savannah, Ga. I still feel like it is one of the most beautiful cities that I have ever lived in. Then I thought that Atlanta was where I belonged. Yet again, the city seemed to stifle me. Now I don't know what to think.
As my daughter gets older, and I have to think about education, where I live is starting to become less about my preference and more about her best interests. I can't work as much as I need to because the hours of childcare are limited. I don't have support here, and I am actually getting lonely. So the question is, where is my home? If I don't make it here, where do I go to get there. The first two logical places are Texas and Georgia. Texas equals a full fledged commital to swallowing all the hurt, neglect, and pride associated with my father and concentrate on that relationship. The second is Georgia. Atlanta to be back with my mom. But then that means, I would be back in the place that I fled from. So I think move back to Savannah, I would be near my daughter's godfather, and my sister. Yet, I tried once to do that, and it just didn't feel right. Savannah feels like I am so far from that place mentally even thinking about it makes me feel suffocated and lethargic. So what is the answer? How can you go home if you don't have a home to go back to? I can take so much more knowledge with me going back, and I also can do the things that I really want to do because the financial stress might be alleviated to some degree but is the happiness in the sacrifice of my life for the sake of my daughter's or is the happiness in making it in the place I really want to be and fitting everything else into it?
The only solace: Right now she doesn't know or miss anything and she loves our life.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Strolling Disney
Upon my very first visit to Disneyland, I was overwhelmed and amazed with delight; the beautiful landscaping, the themed areas, and all the kids running around in princess outfits. Wait, where are the little boys in costumes? There is a princess dress up place but nothing much for the little boys, in fact, I bought one of the three things that were boy oriented, Prince Phillip’s (Sleeping Beauty) sword. Not fair, what if said little boy wants to be a dashing prince with a red cape flying behind him or what if he wanted to be the BEAST? Where is Prince Charming? How can we teach our sons the value of being a great knight in shining armor if there is no armor for him to don. “Harumph!” I say as I cross my arms and sit back. Some severe oversight of Disney don’t you think?
Further through my explorations of the Magic Kingdom, I find the stroller parking situation quite mesmerizing. Army, I mean, just hundreds of strollers at various intervals full of all sorts of child quelling devices are parked like an army of foot soldiers awaiting command. I was almost fearful, as there was also not an attendant watching them. I thought to myself aren’t they afraid of theft? With all their possessions left out in the open like that? My friend informs me that there is just an unspoken rule about it, that in Disneyland, the happiest place on earth, no one steals. Then he added that there are so many video cameras that it would be impossible not to get caught, and the more I chugged away on this reasoning I also would assume that a person wouldn’t spend $70 bucks to come into a place in the hopes of stealing a stroller’s contents. My amazement soon dwindled. However, the teaming army of strollers still flipped me out. I suppose I can understand if you have a few older kids who can enjoy the ride and a younger toddler or baby that has to come. Yet, there were many people there that only had babies, and I cannot imagine the joy in toting around an infant in a theme park, where you can’t ride the rides anyway, and all you can do is stroll around the park.
However, to my chagrin, people and ride attendants did not seem to find issue with a woman carting her 2 maybe 3 month old in her arms to ride the tea cups. Not that I am an expert on infants, but I cannot imagine that a baby would get enjoyment out of spinning around incessantly for about 5 minutes. I could be wrong here but isn’t that something akin to shaken baby syndrome? I think the thing that most amazed me about the flagrant display of abuse was that she carried the kid like it really was a baby doll. You know the way a child holds it underneath the arms of the doll with one arm while the legs, arms, and head bob along carelessly.
Another baffling situation preceeded this one. As far as I remember, most men can’t stand the sound of a crying baby?! So standing in line with one should give guys the heebie jeebies and one would think that they would be quick to find any remedy to avoid having to sit and listen to one bawling in the line in front of them. Such an event happened where a grandparent was standing on the outskirts of a ride, tried to come in and save a mother from the excruciating pains of a crying kid; while three men stood before me and they were on the inside of the line maze in betwixt the screaming baby, and the outreached arms of the grandparent. Instead of trying to aid the situation by offering to pass the baby over to the grandmother, and in effect alleviating the screeches of said child, they stood there and rolled their eyes. Finally, a woman pushed through the assholes and grabbed the baby and passed him over. The boys, as I will now call them, stood there with “Thank God” expressions on their faces. Of course, I am not one to hold my tongue so I made them very uncomfortable the rest of our stay in row talking to my friend about what a great blog topic this situation was going to be. Another scenario of people being complete self-centered dipsticks!
So the last little blight on my Disneyland trip was the complete and utter lack of courtesy by adults as they charged through the immaculate fantasy world. Not being considerate to the tiny being next to me, I almost decked quite a few people for attempting to run over my tiny one. In the midst of this particular angst, I noticed one thing that I couldn’t understand. Why in this happiest place on earth, were the only smiles from me and my entourage, and older people? It really baffled me the worn out, and down trodden faces I saw. I, who am arguably one of the most serious minded people and moody to boot, had a consistent case of perma-grin from parking lot (minus the chartreuse color of Goofy level) back to the parking lot 12 hours later. Maybe it was because it was my first time, but I don’t think that is it. I was so happy to be there, even happier to see my little girl’s face light up over and over, and even more happy that I knew that I could actually come back again soon. Everything was amazing to me, I didn’t feel worn out or tired, no jadedness permeated my façade. I am still reeling over the fun! We sword fought in line, and sang Disney songs to the background music; we rested on steps and watched the people go by, we ate good food, and cotton candy! Fast rides, and slow meandering visits to the imagination. As I said to my friend after the fireworks show, “Who needs GOD when you have Walt Disney?”
Further through my explorations of the Magic Kingdom, I find the stroller parking situation quite mesmerizing. Army, I mean, just hundreds of strollers at various intervals full of all sorts of child quelling devices are parked like an army of foot soldiers awaiting command. I was almost fearful, as there was also not an attendant watching them. I thought to myself aren’t they afraid of theft? With all their possessions left out in the open like that? My friend informs me that there is just an unspoken rule about it, that in Disneyland, the happiest place on earth, no one steals. Then he added that there are so many video cameras that it would be impossible not to get caught, and the more I chugged away on this reasoning I also would assume that a person wouldn’t spend $70 bucks to come into a place in the hopes of stealing a stroller’s contents. My amazement soon dwindled. However, the teaming army of strollers still flipped me out. I suppose I can understand if you have a few older kids who can enjoy the ride and a younger toddler or baby that has to come. Yet, there were many people there that only had babies, and I cannot imagine the joy in toting around an infant in a theme park, where you can’t ride the rides anyway, and all you can do is stroll around the park.
However, to my chagrin, people and ride attendants did not seem to find issue with a woman carting her 2 maybe 3 month old in her arms to ride the tea cups. Not that I am an expert on infants, but I cannot imagine that a baby would get enjoyment out of spinning around incessantly for about 5 minutes. I could be wrong here but isn’t that something akin to shaken baby syndrome? I think the thing that most amazed me about the flagrant display of abuse was that she carried the kid like it really was a baby doll. You know the way a child holds it underneath the arms of the doll with one arm while the legs, arms, and head bob along carelessly.
Another baffling situation preceeded this one. As far as I remember, most men can’t stand the sound of a crying baby?! So standing in line with one should give guys the heebie jeebies and one would think that they would be quick to find any remedy to avoid having to sit and listen to one bawling in the line in front of them. Such an event happened where a grandparent was standing on the outskirts of a ride, tried to come in and save a mother from the excruciating pains of a crying kid; while three men stood before me and they were on the inside of the line maze in betwixt the screaming baby, and the outreached arms of the grandparent. Instead of trying to aid the situation by offering to pass the baby over to the grandmother, and in effect alleviating the screeches of said child, they stood there and rolled their eyes. Finally, a woman pushed through the assholes and grabbed the baby and passed him over. The boys, as I will now call them, stood there with “Thank God” expressions on their faces. Of course, I am not one to hold my tongue so I made them very uncomfortable the rest of our stay in row talking to my friend about what a great blog topic this situation was going to be. Another scenario of people being complete self-centered dipsticks!
So the last little blight on my Disneyland trip was the complete and utter lack of courtesy by adults as they charged through the immaculate fantasy world. Not being considerate to the tiny being next to me, I almost decked quite a few people for attempting to run over my tiny one. In the midst of this particular angst, I noticed one thing that I couldn’t understand. Why in this happiest place on earth, were the only smiles from me and my entourage, and older people? It really baffled me the worn out, and down trodden faces I saw. I, who am arguably one of the most serious minded people and moody to boot, had a consistent case of perma-grin from parking lot (minus the chartreuse color of Goofy level) back to the parking lot 12 hours later. Maybe it was because it was my first time, but I don’t think that is it. I was so happy to be there, even happier to see my little girl’s face light up over and over, and even more happy that I knew that I could actually come back again soon. Everything was amazing to me, I didn’t feel worn out or tired, no jadedness permeated my façade. I am still reeling over the fun! We sword fought in line, and sang Disney songs to the background music; we rested on steps and watched the people go by, we ate good food, and cotton candy! Fast rides, and slow meandering visits to the imagination. As I said to my friend after the fireworks show, “Who needs GOD when you have Walt Disney?”
Sunday, May 3, 2009
A Gross Generalization Come Undone
Okay, readers, today I wrote a comment on Facebook about my annoyance to the fact that my "white" friends here in LA are so devoid of culture. It spawned a nasty mix of humor (which I appreciated) and some dank religiously overt assertions. Interestingly enough it was those with religion that seemed to try to turn it into some sort of religious overture. I made no mention about religion, I spoke of race... in fact the actual status update said this "I am having racial angst today. Why are white people sooo devoid of culture." Well, that might have been worded better than the orginal but the same words are there. I got some laughs, then some down with the white man commentary, then these PERSONAL professions of religious diversity. Now, while I appreciated the candor that these were delivered in, they seemed unnecessarily defensive about MY own person opinion of the moment. I had not attacked any one in particular, and though I might admit that I should have said WHITE AMERICANS or my WHITE PEEPS IN LA, I think even Noam Chomsky would have understood my meaning. Secondly, ethnicity and race has nothing to do with religion. Many whites are of varying religions, as are Black, Asian, Middle Eastern, and even Jewish have different sects. So again, I wonder how my update brought in religion. When I did comment, I explained that I was talking about how last night while performing at my Bellydance show in an Egyptian cafe, that there was not a single white face in the crowd, except mine and the perverted old man who frequents the place. What I found interesting was the fact that these comments seemed aimed at convincing me that they were not deserving of such generalization as if I had personally attacked them. I had done no such thing. So while I am baffled as to the reason for such concentrated personal expository, it was interesting to see such a variance in point of view by my Facebook friends. While I have studied most of the world's religions in a moderate amount of depth, none has yet moved me to follow with such a devotion. I personally could care less about religion and have my own complicated system of belief. This of which I shall not, and probably never will share with anyone. I leave the reader of this rant with this quote by Georgia Harkness, "The tendency to turn human judgments into divine commands makes religion one of the most dangerous forces in the world."
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