There’s a moment in the outdoors, when the breeze is just right, the sun is there but not too terrifyingly hot, the air shifts and tickles the inside of your brain and you feel everything is lighter and more possible.
This only happens perhaps once a year in my life, but I cling to it. Usually experienced through an open window or back door ajar, because my family live in this neighbourhood and there’s not much to do here so I don’t go out. The pressure is always there to stay in this stale suburb where mums primp and drink their chai lattes with a steely alpha vibe. But when this breeze comes, I feel it nudges my spirit toward the possibilities of the future where I may go anywhere and be anyone, anyone aside from my stuck self. See the world and take everything in like the pollen on the breeze, inhaled and absorbed into my body.
As a woman there is a long history of struggle and suffrage attached to us. I envy most of all those of my sex who are fiercely free, despite the judgements of others. Those whose internal voices are silent other than to pronounce and proclaim the joys of existence – good food with no shame, good sex with no regrets and glorious laughter for days on end with interesting people. No-one told them it was wrong to make noise at home or that they must always be polite, no matter the cost. Or that they were stupid, ugly or hated for sometimes no reason at all. Those who act as men often do (but increasingly not always) vital and entitled to just “be”. I want to celebrate and picks the brains of those women who have burned off the shackles of opinion and history, in that I might somehow be blessed with a piece of the fairy dust they possess.
I am still very riddled with various levels of guilt, embarrassment and shame – mainly for existing, where I equate myself readily, almost gleefully to the wicked witch of the west, and therefore must be punished for being so unfortunately born even when I managed to survive a very tenuous situation at birth, one my twin brother did not. Why is it hard for me to see then, that I’ve always been strong? That I’ve always been so capable? A racially ambiguous adulthood and awareness of my face in the world now, has sprung out of the thing where you went to an Irish Catholic school most of your life – so everyone who was different was REALLY different but you felt as “normal” as the next girl and didn’t really notice because everyone was trying to survive school in the same way. Casual racism existed, and those that were not Irish or Catholic, generally stuck together a little to bolster ranks against the bullies.
I remember the fact that I was interested in so many different areas of culture and society, meant that I was often simply the observer in events at school. I was fascinated by drugs but never took them, but I remember making up a questionnaire and asking everyone I could to tell me their experiences. Not for any reason than just a pet project – word to the nerd yo! I loved the promise of new horizons and feelings slipping into the “otherness” and opposite of my life experience thus far gave me. Living vicariously was safe and I didn’t get yelled at by my worried parents or cause anyone else harm, and what it did was instil in me a love and respect for people’s stories. I don’t however remember much of my school days, I was miserable and wanted them to be over so I think this is why I seek to somehow put before you something of interest now. A way to curate my own memories, tastes and favourite things so you’ll think I’m cool and invite me to your party.
There was no one to tell you your weirdnesses or straight-laced-ness mattered back then. An angry decade of my teenage years went by in trying to mimik various musical idols, save the excesses mind, I did go to Catholic school after all. But boy did I want to be Jimi Hendrix, Slash…Courtney Love…someone exciting and successful and good.
I write this as my virus-fever brain runs rampant over my body, but my mind finally fed up with meandering over this sense of purpose I’ve been wanting to put my finger on for a while, has finally spewed up some circumstance where I might try and do some good for others because it sure as shit wasn’t there for me growing up.
If I can provide anyone but especially women with one moment of sitting back and finding the interesting, affirming and wondrousin the midst of the vile and vulgar shit that is peddled by media today, then I could count myself a productive member of society. I am still “other” even now. Someone who was kindly called a renaissance woman by a few people which basically means, we women of the renaissance do a lot of things, not often all well but with gusto! I’m a functioning musician and photographer, and a culture vulture with a wicked memory of actor’s names and cool films, sometime gamer, traveller – but now I want to coalesce all the weird and cool shit that I like that lifts me up as a human, and make a safe place for you to come along for the ride.
This could be the biggest ego project ever, because up till now I didn’t think I had anything else to offer the world except songs nobody really listened to. That still might be true but I’ll take it as a success if even one person reads this and enjoys something.
Tripping, bumbling and clamouring my way forwards, as we all MUST if we want to get through this to some sort of peace, like a blind priestess, I invite you in.
Don’t be a dick but tell your friends x