lip smacker

my mother did not wear makeup when i was growing up. although the mid-seventies, for some, were equated with glamourous high gloss lips, contoured blush and aqua net…my sensible swedish mother eschewed the artifice in favor of a more natural, earthy sensibility. one that also rejected synthetic fabrics and orange drinks made popular by astronauts.

both my grandmothers wore makeup. differently from each other, to be sure, but that is how I understood makeup; it was the markings of an individual. a way to enhance or create your idea of self; whether it be a signature or a mood, it was part of a work in progress.

i loved everything about makeup. the packaging, the colors, the smells and textures of powders and creams. i was dying for the day i could wear makeup. like so many girls before me, my early days wearing makeup were garish and exaggerated. i wore my mask of adulthood thickly and aggressively. blue and gold on my lids, glittering at 7am in homeroom, i forced my blinks to stay closed a second too long lest someone miss the masterpiece slathered on my lids.

i loved colors then, and really still love them now. i remember when i first read a blurb in a vogue essay deriding “midwestern blue shadowed lids”, i stopped confused…wait…is blue eye shadow bad? is midwestern (as i am) also seen as a detractor? how was i to know that?

i am still quite loyal to my blue lids. my green, purple and gold lids too, depending on my mood, my outfit, the season, my tan etc. i have never paid heed to make up trends or fashion. i just like to paint and painting requires color.

we always see these vivid colors in editorial. why is everyone so afraid to use them in life? if they brighten the pages of a magazine, wouldn’t they have the same effect in our real life?

i live in a quiet and rather dull mid atlantic city known for its fashion conservatism. i recently cut my long blonde hair in the fashion of jean seberg and instantly rendered myself simultaneously disturbing and invisible and yet obtrusive all at once. i love it. it draws attention to my robin egg blue eye lids all the better.

*photo credit linde evangelista, via weheartit.com

hey mr. dj...

we all have a life soundtrack. not just our Spotify account or our Pandora stream, but a real soundtrack. think about a time and place in your life and i am sure you know exactly what you were listening to at that moment.

in high school and college, each heartbreak i suffered was accompanied by weeks of the Supremes, then tossing in some Ronettes as the pain subsided and then getting back to whatever dance track (“Crucified”, anyone?) was hot hot hot then. the one exception being my very first heartache, when i spent a long weekend alternating between watching "A Room With a View” and blasting Puccini’s "La Bohème" on my vacationing parents' stereo. my poor little brother had a kegger in mind, but my despair destroyed any chance of that…he fled to a friend’s house to leave me wallow in my adolescent agony.

i have spent hours exhausting anguish to the thrash of Minneapolis’ holy trinity of Husker Dü, the Replacements and Soul Asylum. in college i would get dressed to go out jamming to the Clash’s “Train in Vain”; later replaced by Britney and other mindless pop that i came to love as i grew out of my indie obsessed youth and just wanted to feel good. Jay-Z’s “Give It To Me” will still get me moving no matter where i am…cleaning the house falls to Motown and vintage Little Stevie Wonder...and the time i fell in love the hardest my sister threatened to smash my cd single of Madonna’s “Don’t Tell Me” remixes…i had a song for every single moment and i played the hell out them.

this is the first time i am unsure what i want to hear. obviously, when i am walking the streets or getting ready to go out, Robyn and Rebecca Fiona are what i am rocking on my iPod…but i spend most of my time engaged in other things. my life is in an uncomfortable place, my emotions are strange and unfamiliar to me…i have never been here before and i don’t know what the defining song is.

as a therapist/trainer, i spend much of my time listening to others. when i am alone, i often crave silence most, but sometimes that is just creepy. classical music fills that void. it soothes me and often moves me. it encourages held back tears to fall and can make me skip with joy. this is a thorny time in my life and my moods are unsteady…some days i just cannot bear words but i need something in the air around me.  

chains that bind

admit it, we’ve all played this game…

it stars out harmlessly with someone unsuitable/inappropriate/or similar expressing admiration/affection/desire/ or similar and we’re naturally flattered.

it feels good and it appears safe to accept. and what is there to fear anyway? there is, of course, no chance of anything real developing with someone so clearly unsuitable/inappropriate/ or similar.

but our acquiescence is a powerful message however passive it may be; we accept and this excites and encourages our suitor. upping the ante is the response and maybe we continue to accept. we laugh at it but still it is titillating, enjoyable, ego-boosting and still safe…so we engage in “harmless” flirting.

but there is a pit in our stomach, a drop in our heart… we are playing…

now we are jerking the chain…and let’s face it, in the games of love and sex, jerking someone’s chain can be fun…

the ante continues to rise and we stay in the game but you can only play for so long until you wake up one morning underneath this totally unsuitable/inappropriate person attached to the chain.

you knew better but what could you do? this poor s.o.b just liked you so much, wanted you so badly and hell, was even very funny…now you feel guilty, so maybe you continue so you don’t hurt their feelings.

you remember why you felt your stomach sinking at the start because now you are chained to the jerk whose chain you were jerking!

the upper hand is all about perspective. sometimes we lose strength by flexing certain muscles.

this is the very real risk of jerking the chain…

*photo still from belle du jour, luis buñuel

et tu, brutus?

they smile in your face, but all the while they want to take your place, the back stabbers...
                                                    the o'jays

some of the ties that bind us to our friends are our shared secrets and insider jokes; episodes or incidents that we have experienced with each other. knowing we have these in common makes us feel close and give us a sense of belonging.

sometimes when someone feels lonely, they may believe they are alone. this feeling of isolation can incite insecurity. often when we feel insecure, we are desperate to claw our way back to feeling welcome and loved. what better way than to share a secret...reveal something juicy...encourage interest and maybe even admiration from those around us. a tidbit of gossip sometimes seems like an easy ticket to the party.

the problem is that gossip is a cheap way to gain entré and more often than not it is an illusory one. friends bound by gossip and malice are not genuine or true. tables turn and power changes hands. don't be surprised if the knife in your back once belonged to you...

***photo credit: george cukor, the women

e=mc2

sometimes time moves so slowly and we ache to get on with it. sometimes time moves so quickly, we are left stunned to catch our breath and absorb what just happened. time is relative.

when we want something, time can be painful. we can be anxious, angry or full of fear while we wait for something we want to come to us. crossing out days on a calendar, tapping our feet with frustration, snapping our fingers to get someone's attention. trying to control what cannot be controlled.

when we are patient, we can see the horizon. we notice what is unfolding around us and we can be prepared.
everything comes in its own time. sometimes we are ready, sometimes we are surprised. either way, it is happening...now.

there is no reality in tomorrow or even yesterday. they are as a dream...hopes or regrets...sweet memories or anxieties...they are unreal. real is now. right where you are...what are you doing with it?

***matisse, the acrobats

equality

fem·i·nism   

/ˈfɛməˌnɪzəm/ noun 

the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men.

 internationella kvinnodagen

supersisters

with respect to march being women’s history month i want to start a new post thread honoring a woman worth notice and admiration.

when i was little and just starting to read, my mother enthusiastically encouraged and supported me and she worked especially hard to introduce important women in my reading selections. by the time i was ready to start school, i had already ripped through all the books our public library held devoted to the toddler women’s studies offerings of of hellen keller, amelia earheart and my personal favorite nellie bly.

as years passed and i was left to re-read the same biographies over and over my mother’s frustration grew. she made sure i read "stories for free children" from her Ms. magazine every month, i already memorized "free to be…" where were are all the books about women?

and then she gave me supersister trading cards. from then on i drew from the pack and tracked down as much as i could about each amazing and accomplished woman. my own women’s studies 101 before i even finished montessori!

this week, i want to celebrate the first woman to really inspire my ardent attention and obsession…the amazing nellie bly…

learn a little about Nellie here

what i loved most were the chapters in her biographies when she went undercover in bellevue. i think she may have inspired my career in psychotherapy. an exciting pioneer, she meant the world to me as a little girl and her bravery and achievement deserves more attention that it receives.

*photo from nellieblyonline.com