Posted in Secondary Sundays

SS: Home

Hello,

I don’t know whether you are reading this or not.

It’s been two weeks already and you’re not back from your parents’ home. I know because I am still tasked to visit and check your house every once in a while.

I don’t know because some other agent has kept me up to date with your daily activities and habits. Agents are not meant to communicate with one another. Nothing that has to be relayed to the machine is ever shared with anyone else.

It cannot be.

But I do have my sources, and I know you’re okay.

Today there are no stories, mostly because you know I’m not good at them.

Today I’ll talk about home, not yours or mine, but the general home.

The sense you get when you leave somewhere that used to be home but isn’t anymore, and reaching a new place that was always meant to be home.

The thing about home is that it is never meant to be forever. Everything is temporary.

Leaving your home, finding a new one, losing it all. It all is a never ending process.

You are home now, you are not home.

Both of these affirmations are real, at the same time.

I am home right now, sitting on the front seat of my car, eating an already cold hamburger and trying to pick greasy cool fries out of a sticky packaging. I am home when I am sitting outside a department complex, or walking around the city without a sense or reason.

It is easier for me to be home.

It is easier for Screws to be home. We have nothing, we are nothing. Home is wherever our bodies take us.

Home for you is a place that holds memories the way you could not when you were younger. Home is where you go to relax and avoid people.

Home is a cat that sometimes runs away and comes back with pigeon feathers.

Home is walking by Daisy down the halls, talking to neighbors you don’t even know.

Home, like most things in our lives, is just another pretty lie.

We will never truly belong anywhere.

At least I belong in my body, you were not afforded the same courtesy.

But I would give up my home, I would give up my body if I could be just another person on the street, just not to notice.

I would give up many things, just to forget everything I’d be giving up; everything I already gave up.

You are home, but you are not home. I am always home, but I am never home.

These affirmations are all true at the same time.

We are never true.

 

Posted in Personal Blogging

Things I learnt After I Shaved My Head

If you’re new here, this is what I look like now:

Yeah, my hair grows ridiculously fast, I know. You can see the difference, and if I had put up a picture of what I looked like the first day you’d get a better idea… but I’m lazy and I already posted one.

I shaved my hair (a buzz cut) the first week of November, now we’re in December and I have like 1 1/2 fingers of length (I don’t know how you measure hair, so that’ll have to do).

I already shared some of my reasons to shave my head (like the fact that I had been thinking about it for a while) and how I felt after I did it. This post is a sort of update on the how-I-look kind of post, but instead of a trip down memory lane, I’m going to tell you a couple of things I’ve learnt or been made aware of due to my new hair style.

1. People will try to measure your femininity through the length of your hair.

It’s ridiculous, I know but it will happen.

When I first cut my hair off the first comments my family made were: “Oh, but you are so pretty!”, “I guess we’re going to miss your Instagram selfies.”, “Did you lose a bet?”, “Oh, you want to look like a boy.” and my personal favorite “Are you sure, because you’ll look ugly.”

Now, not all of those comments were exactly targeted toward my femininity, but they were all supposed to make me reconsider. Like I am pretty because of my hair kind of deal, and I was having none of that.

One time, a man leaned toward my face on the street to speak directly to my nose  “Is this a girl or a boy? I can’t tell.”

I mean, I was wearing a dress but little make up so…. I don’t know, I still found it incredibly disgusting and aggressive.

Oh, someone also asked me whether shaving my head was my way to come out as a lesbian (implying that lesbians are not feminine, which is bullshit…. also I’ve been out as a pansexual girl for a while now).

2.- Suddenly, the only thing you can wear are dresses and flowy things to remind the world that “holy shit you’re a girl!”

Okay, so this is not really a new thing in my family but it got more annoying with time.

I am usually told that I “look pretty in dresses” and that my aunts prefer it when I wear pretty clothes rather than jeans and plaid shirts.

I have been told before (by the asshole uncle Dean) that I dress like a raped boy, which, you know, kind of just makes you hate Dean even more than before. He also calls me a faggot sometimes… but you know, he’s just joking, right?! (fuck him).

Now if I wear anything remotely “not for girls” it’s like everyone loses their shit because “people will think you’re a boy!” and I honestly don’t give a shit? I can wear both, I can wear whatever makes me comfortable.

3.- People expect you to wear more make up to make up for you lack of hair, which is stupid.

Sometimes I wear make up, sometimes I don’t wear make up… sometimes I just wear lipstick or a bit of BB-cream. And that’s fine! make up is not for everyone. Wearing it doesn’t make you prettier or better than anyone. Not wearing it doesn’t make you prettier or better than anyone.

Make up is just make up, you know.

You do you.

A nice comment I got was from Bee who told me that now I had an excuse to do really dramatic eye makeup. Which, yeah… but there’s one problem Bee didn’t take into account… I can’t actually do my make up…. I suck at it.

Foundation + concealer + lipstick is pretty much all I do.

Do I look like a ghost? Hell, yeah I do.

Should I contour, maybe? Probably.

Do my eyes get lost and my eyelashes look weird? Pretty much, yes.

But that is how I live my life.

Disclaimer: I do sometimes attempt to do a more elaborated thing… and I fail.

4.- The “I shaved my head because the weather was too hot” thing, is a lie.

A filthy lie.

I got heatstroke from going outside on a super sunny day, without a hat.

You never know how much your scalp can burn under the sun (and this is coming from someone who actually burnt her scalp during Lollapalooza) until you have a shaved head and no one informed you that you need to wear hats. It’s not about accessorizing y’all. The pain is real.

So if someone ever tells you they shaved their head because of that, well yeah, their neck is a lot less hot, but now they gotta vampire their way around the world.

Not nice.

5.- Hats don’t slide off or slowly move from their position now.

The tiny, tiny sharp hairs in your very vulnerable scalp hold onto everything.

That means that if you’re like me (meaning that you push your hats/headbands to the weirdest positions so that they’ll slowly slide to the part of your head where you actually want them) you will end up wearing shit the wrong way.

Hats? pushed all the way to the end.

Hairbands? Uncomfortably close to your gigantic forehead and constantly colliding with all glasses.

6.- Playing with your tiny spikes stops being fun after a couple of days, a week tops (for me).

All I mean by this is that when you first shave your head, the spikes in you head are very stiff and it feels nice to pet your own head?

Oh, and other people pet your head too.

It’s nice… but also annoying after a while.

7.- I’m super vain.

Yeah, remember that person saying  I wouldn’t post more selfies on Instagram.

They were wrong.

I have a lot of feelings and thoughts about selfies and selfie culture and being shamed for it. I have decided that, fuck it, I’m gonna do whatever makes me happy and if anyone has a problem with that… well, sucks to be them.

I have sooooo many pictures of my face. 2014 me would grimace at the sheer amount of silly/ugly pictures I take from time to time.

But you know what? I like it.

I like my face.

And maybe some people would think this is weird of maybe they’ll try to shame me for it, but I spent a big part of my life not liking myself. So I’m just going to enjoy it now.

7.- My hair is so stiff and straight it won’t settle.

So, apparently my dad has a similar problem (whyyyy did I only get the bad stuff from him ie. mental hair, horrible dad jokes, and oily skin) and according to him, until I have longer hair (like two fingers of length) it just won’t lie down.

I don’t really mind it. But it does make me look weird.

8.- I will constantly miss all the versions I’ve been.

Now, this is not only about shaving my head. This was still true when I died it red and then did the ombre thing, then when I cut it off, bleached it, dyed it brown, bleached it again, etc.

Strangely, I don’t really miss my brown hair. I don’t think it’s because it’s a boring color (I love my brown hair and eyes) but because I don’t associate good times to that color. I wa still very shy when I had brown hair. Dyeing it red was the most adventurous thing I’d done and it felt amazing.

Then the next time I dyed it brown coincided with the program that killed everything I am (but taught me many things about myself), so I couldn’t really look back to those days fondly.

As I said, at the beginning of the year I would look at old pictures of myself and see how happy I looked and I’d feel like shit.

Now I can see that I didn’t look happy at all in pictures of that time. But I still miss that version of myself. I wish I had been kinder to her.

I just feel a lot of nostalgia.

I guess it’s because I am so used to holding onto things (ideas, jewelry, papers, you name it) that whenever I change something about myself it feels like the end of an era, like I will never, ever be that person again. It might be ridiculous, but in a way it helps me from time to time.

Bleaching my hair the second time around (more carefully this time) meant that I was done with the Teaching Program and I could just leave all of that behind. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

And now, when I shaved my head it was even more than that because I was doing something I had wanted to do for ages but had lacked the courage to do. I guess it mean that I was finally ready to step away from things I had been lugging with me for years. I could accept myself and just move forward into the unknown.

Or, I’m just over-analyzing this like usual. Who know.

-L.

 

 

 

Posted in On the Table

Today’s Special Is: Eyewitness

Oh, wow! Two One the Table on the same day!

What’s up with that?

Well…….. confession time: That first one was supposed to go up last week… but it clearly didn’t.

Oh, well.. What can you do? *shrugs*

Don’t worry, there’s no back story for this, just the recommendation, because I’m feeling kind and lazy, and maybe I’m writing this to procrastinate… you’ll never know.

Continue reading “Today’s Special Is: Eyewitness”

Posted in On the Table

Today’s Special Is: Yuri!!! On Ice

Okay, you guys, you know the drill.

This is an all new On the Table post and I’m about to try to get you to fall in love with Yuri!!! On Ice (An anime) as much as I have.

First of all, I guess I should start with some context…the two of you who have been here for a while and have read some of my earlier posts are probably thinking that my “context” is usually a really long piece of narration that can get pretty boring… well you’re not wrong… and I’m sorry.

But I think that to understand where I’m coming from and why Yuri!!! On Ice is so important, you need to read this first.

Continue reading “Today’s Special Is: Yuri!!! On Ice”

Posted in Secondary Sundays, Writer's Block

About Secondary Sundays

Hello, people who sometimes check on this blog.

Oh, and hi to the couple of beautiful individuals who periodically read the Secondary Sundays. You guys rock.

So, what I wanted to say today is that because we’re reaching the end of the year and holidays are coming (and I’m a little busy with the preparations for my future™), I’m going to stop posting the SS every Sunday (yeah, like that ever worked). I will, instead, post a story every other Sunday.

This is not just because of the reasons listed above, but because I’m trying to start a new section on the blog.

I’m not sure what it will be about but I have some options, and it’ll be similar to the Secondary Sundays.

My options for now are:

  1. A comedic section about the paranormal.
  2. Short stories set in a universe from an old story.
  3. A section about grim reapers or angels.
  4. A section introducing a story I wrote this year about super heroes.

I won’t go into any details about my options until I know exactly which one will be used and when the stories will be posted.

I might give some of them a test run in the next couple of weeks, but I won’t start posting periodically until the end of the month.

Thank you for your attention,

-L.

Posted in Poetry

Thoughts on ‘Keys’

I. It is not often that you wonder about what you do not have. You do not have a home, you do not own a car. Your hands have never hold a key in a way that wasn’t transitory.

II. Homes are not for those who wander, and you have never done anything but. There are times in which you wonder how your feet can carry you miles and oceans away when there are still pieces of your body that linger and stay.

III. The first time you held a key it was a sign to move forward. You did not have a choice. Keys were rust and metal sticking to the back of your throat. Transit meant fear and blood, rooms and cars, bullets and wounds. It was here that you learnt the true meaning of oxygen and water.

IV. The last time you held a key you could not breathe. Your lungs were made of saltwater and smoke. Sand ran through your veins like the careless passing of an indifferent clock. Time moved backwards and then forward. You lost hours upon hours, upon hours counting back the salt you never wanted to give back to the ocean in your chest.

V. It is not often that you wonder about what you cannot have. You cannot have a home, cannot own a name or a place. Your hands, so used to touch and let go are being taught that sometimes to linger means to hold, and sometimes you need to hold to let go.

VI. Names are for people who stay, and your body is so used to running it seems to slip a bit further away with every word you say. There are times in which you wonder how your body can stay afloat when the ocean in your chest is filled with rocks and corpses.

VII. The first time you hold a key is as an afterthought. You are an afterthought, only barely there and almost unrecognizable under the right light. Transit still makes your bones ache and your blood ask for something you cannot give it anymore.

VIII. The next time you hold a key it has a weight, a meaning, a taste other than copper and stale tears. You do not run anymore. Your scars and wounds have taught you that you can endure, that you are a rock and weathered canvas.

IX. It is not often that you think about what you have and what you are. You are a key in someone else’s hand, a choice, a sign. You are home, when houses and cars have never been anything other than transit.

X. You are home. Oceans and sandless clocks can never dictate your future, because you held hands with someone who gave you a key and invited you over. You are not afraid of the salt you’ve yet to give back to the world, because now your wounds are protected, covered. You are not afraid of a body that wanders far because you have a heart that stays and belongs.

You can stay and belong, that is what keys are for.

-L.

Posted in Personal Blogging

Family Celebration

Hi there!

So I guess this is one of those posts that I’d promised I’d post someday and then I didn’t and then something happened and the post ended up being something it wasn’t supposed to be.

I am not here to share a funny story as I often do. I’m here to vent.

I know the chances of anyone actually reading this are very slim, but that comforts me. This is not here for the benefit other people. This is here because there were words in my head that needed to not be in my head. At least for a little while.

So if you’re here, for any reason, looking for a funny story… don’t read this.

Continue reading “Family Celebration”