Incessant ranting & rambling

I've been given a name that doesn't easily roll off tongues. Liezel, pronounced "Le-zelle" has been often butchered to "Lysol, Lisel (my german counterpart) & Losale"

Every morning, after my morning run, I pick up the Washington Post, and/or hot chocolate or hot tea. The person behind the counter is accustomed to my frequent morning visits. (Not so much on the personal level where we can exchange family issues & intimate details, but more on small talk on business being steady)

Given my name isn't a common one, I'd much rather be Liezel than "Stacy, Michelle, or Beth" --I'm not like everyone else. With my usual round of the Post and hot drink purchases, one can assume I have established a "connection" with the person at the counter. Not necessarily. I'm often called, "Marisa" by said person. Depriving me of my very own name, she effectively erases my existence as Liezel. This only exacerbates my own feeling of disconnection with people.

This reminds me of "7th grade required school reading" of Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys. Antoinette, in her own mirrorless prison in the attic, desires to become a visible, accepted member of the community. In the attic, she constantly looks for own reflection, an adopted need to be visible in a world that neither accepts or invites her. Looking for reassurance of her own existence in a period of time where she was not accepted in society. Mirrors play an important motif in the novel, it underscores the important questions of identity that pull at her and the rest of the characters. She constantly asks herself, while locked away in the attic, "What am I doing in this place? And who am I?"

Great question.

I'm not imprisoned in an attic, but I am in constant battle with my inner demons of acceptance with myself, especially in today's society. The same could be said with my current relationships.

Just who am I? Apparently, I'm Marisa.

Mourning a loss...

It goes without saying that a loss of a friend is heartbreaking...

Not sure what to say. Or how to feel. Bottling up my feelings isn't helping. Holding back the tears, only to find myself crying it all out in my car earlier this morning. GOD FUCKING DAMNIT. God damnit. I had so much more I wanted to say, and I just don't know where to begin.

Numb. Not for the loss of life, but for the loss of a wonderful inspiration to many people in this world. She was someone who once told me, "Honey, you're fabulous. People see it, people know it. You're a modern day Audrey. If only she was asian, and darn loveable." It's not the content of what people say that makes you remember them, it's how they made you feel when they said it.

People come and go. People come and go. But once in a while, you'll find yourself in the presence of someone wonderful. Be glad they crossed your path.

I know you're looking down on me from above. You're always with me, sweetie. Rest in peace, M.G.

Ah, euphemisms...

Maybe lies are "strategic misrepresentations"
(Not sure if it goes with my post, I saw it on an away message once upon a time)

Let's suppose we discuss the various tastes one may have in music, clothes, art, movies, etc. So we find that we get to know a person solely on these pieces of information? We all commonly place judgement based on these subjects alone. Just not intentionally. Malcolm Gladwell writes on this very topic in his newest work, Blink. (Discovered Gladwell and his earlier work The Tipping Point by accident. The cashier had accidently switched my bag with the customer's purchase in front of me. That customer took my books home, and I took his. Unfortunately, I also had to take his book on "How to" cook.)

Music. I shall be the test subject on today's topic. I will note various songs and bands I enjoy. With each song, I will jot a song lyric that pops in my head.


SmashMouth-Come on Come on
Would you give me a clue what to do cause my minds in motion
Just trying to relax...
With big plans but there's always tomorrow
Is something wrong with me or the way that I'm thinking

Prince-Sexy MF
You seem perplexed I haven't taken you yet...
But I can take it, cuz I want the whole nine
This ain't about the body, it's about the mind

Lil Flip-Sunshine
I like them short and tall but not too thick
I just walk in the spot and take my pick
And they wanna roll cause they like my style
And when I pop my collar I make them smile
I need a lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets
That know how to cook cause a nigga like to eat
Spaghetti, shrimp and steak and I'll adore you
I'll treat you like milk, I'll do nothing but spoil you

Bjork-It's oh so quiet
You ring the bell Bim bam
You shout and you yell Hi ho ho
You broke the spell
Gee, this is swell you almost have a fit
This guy is 'gorge' and I got hit
There's no mistake this is it

The Smithereens-A Girl Like You
I'll say anything you want to hear
I'll see everything through
I'll do anything I have to do
Just to win the love of a girl like you, a girl like you

Lenny Kravitz-Lady
Yeah
Don't you know she blows my mind
All the time
'Cause she makes me feel good
Like real woman should
Yeah
All the time
Yeah
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

I can list other songs I like, but I find that a small example will do. Notice the listing? I just quickly jotted down a lyric. *Humming along as best I could* A mixture of songs that can or cannot tell a little about myself. My brother listens to hard core rap. I'm not necessarily going to classify him as a "thug".

The same can be said about movies. Or books, or foods, whatever. You can't really judge a person based on these things alone. My movie collection is filled with movies like: Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels, So I Married an Axe Murderer, 25th Hour, Reservoir Dogs. I may be from New Jersey, but I'm no Mafia princess.

I'm always surprised when people react to what I enjoy. Songs, food, books, shows, art... anything. People are composed of different wants, likes & dislikes, and personal choices. Why does my personal selection have to go under examination because I like certain or most things?

I thought about this for most of the day yesterday. It was my day off, and I found myself exploring the new Strathmore Music Hall in Rockville, Maryland. (Talk about liking certain things.) The building itself is jaw dropping. You would never imagine a building like that off a major road like 355. (Side note: The last time I saw great architecture was in Chicago last summer when I went to see a show at Second City.) There's a dance studio, art gallery, and of course, the new music hall. What a grand sight that was to see! I spent about two hours walking about, but most of my time was spent listening to jazz. There were arts & crafts, sign up sheets, and screaming kids. I also took note of the groups of people in attendance. There were the usual families, the snobbish Bethesda elite, the DC CEO's, and the music enthusiasts. Hmmm, wonder where I fit in?

What is that certain "thing" that generates interest in learning more about someone? Past experience? Personal faves? Sense of humor? Whether they like Chicken or Beef?

People are interesting because of their own personal faves, quirky mannerisms, and eating habits. If we were all the same, life would be boring. People are attracted to other people for one reason or another. So what makes you interesting?

Saga of errors

After a long discussion over breakfast and coffee in downtown, DC, I have come to a realization... I'm not always going to figure things out by myself.

And I finally got it. While having a discussion about life, a friend pointed out that our morning talk was meant to go inside me and hide itself like an invisible soul learning my wants, and my desires. It doesn't have to pertain directly to any situation. The underlying implications remain the same. I am human, I am a woman, I have wants, I need to feel and sometimes I am afraid of all that entails. But on some level there is more to me yearning to break free.

In life one never truly knows a thing with absolute certainty. We live in a relative universe and providence has a way of manifesting incredible irony. However, we do have a "choice". We have the option of deciding to move forward realizing that risk is a part of life and that not all things are going to turn out the way that we want it. Now to know a thing and to do a thing are very different animals. But once again the underlying implications are the same. Do you live this life being afraid of letting go or do you live this life with passion and take the risk in order to experience the highs and yes sometimes the lows.

I want to be happy. I can sense the passion simmering just beneath the surface. It's there and I know it. Sometimes it sees the light of day but most times it is shuttered beneath the umbrage of fear. After all who wants to feel the ache that no medicine can alleviate. Yes, it is definitely there and with the right tweaking that small flame can turn into an inferno. Unfortunately, not everyone knows how to shape it, mold it, regulate it - making it warm with a thought and then hot with a touch.

It's sad to say, but I am lonely. I'm tired of feeling that emptiness that lies deep down inside of me. Though I can perform in front of hundreds of people, or spark up a conversation with a complete stranger, it's has always been easier for me to be someone else with people who don't mean a damn thing to me, than actually feel something with those who I care about the most. I can be in a room full of people, and still feel like the only one in the room. That's the thing about people, there's always someone bound to see beyond the act. Those are the people you need in your life to help you figure it out and call you out on it. Eventually every "show" comes to an end.

It's a damn lonely place when you figure it out. Especially when no one is around to understand alongside you. It's time to "allow myself to survive and thrive with passion, compassion, humor, and style." (Part of a Maya Angelou quote I love.)

No need for applause. No need for an audience. No need for masks.
All that is needed is me. And just me.

If Mardi Gras literally means, "Fat Tuesday" in French...

than Ash Wednesday means, "SOBER UP YOU BEADED INFESTED DRUNKS" in English. :)

Fat Tuesday is the day before Ash Wednesday. It is also known as Mardi Gras Day or Shrove Day. A day to drink up, eat up, and balls to the walls, party your tuckus off. Usually, in Louisiana, the two weeks before "Fat Tuesday" are the most festive. Parades, the beads, the drunk guys showing off his boobs... And then puking on the side of Bourbon Street.

Ash Wednesday is the first day of the Christian season of Lent and a sign of penitence.. During Lent, Christians must fast and give up things they like. The Lenten season lasts for 46 days. I tried giving up on StarBucks one Lent. That didn't go over too well. There are some things you CANNOT be without, even during LENT: Sex, Chocolate, ALL FOODS, Alcohol, masturbation, and of course, Smoking. (from joints to fags) I've seen people fail miserably, and God just shook his head.

On Ash Wednesday, Christians go to mass and receive ashes on their foreheads in the sign of the dross. It is a reminder of from "Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust". It means that we came from dust and we shall return to dust, referring to our earthly bodies, not our souls.

I am not a religious person. I do believe in certain aspects of the Catholic faith. I go to mass for certain events: Christmas, Easter, Weddings, some baptisms, and Ash Wednesday. What's the point of confessing your sins, if you know you're going to do them again? The whole point is that you know you did wrong, you acknowledged that fact, repent, and live on. It's a great time to reflect on what you've been doing. No one is perfect. And yes, I do wrong. And yes, I will do better. And yes, I can and will change. That's what I get out of repenting. It's one of the solo moments I can take a deep look at myself and say, "I have it in me to do better." So, when you see me with ashes on my forehead tomorrow, just know that I'm not advertising my faith, as much as I'm advertising a new way of living. So there, you damn Jews. ;P Kidding, of course.

-On a side note: There was a cute child in the line at StarBucks this morning. He greeted me with a huge smile and a small red truck that he insisted I "check out". The kid was terribly well behaved and well spoken. (For a kid that age) After engaging in kid conversation for several minutes, he told me that I was pretty and that he likes it when I make him laugh. I was taken aback when he genuinely smiled and uttered the words to me. How can kids be that damn honest? No worries, no fears, no hesistation? In the Metro section of the Post today, a preschool teacher is quoted on a similar subject, "They're honest. If you do something silly, if you smell bad, they'll tell you." It's amazing to see that adults have lost that ability. I gather it's not so much on being respectful, or polite, but to keep from hurting others, and themselves. Wouldn't it be something if we, as adults, learned honesty from the kids? The kids learn that "Honesty is the best Policy" in the classroom. Outside the classroom, does the same truly apply?

Happy Fat Tuesday! You damn sinners... ;)

Quote of the Day:

Exhaust the realm of the possible.
-Peter Pindar, Pythian Odes

Peter Pindar was a pen name for author John Wolcott. He was an English satirist and poet. He wrote several satires, notably Lyric Odes to the Royal Academicians (1782–83), Bozzy and Piozzi (1786), and The Lousiad (1785–95).

*(And no, K, Pindar isn't some gaming wizard on Nintendo.)*

Thought of the Day:

People wear different hats, take on various roles, and engage interaction through multi-faceted personas. What distinguishes how you wear your hat from others?