There comes a time in one's life, better yet I've come to a point in my life where I could no longer ignore the evident. For too long I had dreams, for too long I thought I could do what I put my mind to, for too long I felt like I "lived" all the while I ignored what laid so actively within me. Do not misunderstand, I still dream, I know I can do that which I put my mind to, but today I made a conscious choice to finally listen to what was happening inside of me and then, do something about it.
The unconscious can be a scary place; there are thing you know, but don't know that you know that can impact not who you've become, rather who you've become comfortable being. It is a human quality to be perturbed by the "unknown", by mystery, by change, though it is the length of perturbation that varies per individual. Either way I don't want to digress into irrelevant tangents; the point to this entry is simply to bring to the forefront, even the mere idea of self exploration. Do not stop at the point that makes you feel bright, go to places unbeknown to you, to dark places and once there open up a window and sit for a while. You'll be surprised at your purest form and the metamorphosis that will transpire. Then don't just live, actually live.
So there are these lessons I am learning along the way and one in particular that has had me thinking for some time is language and the usage thereof. I've always been interested in the words we choose and the meanings attributed to each particular concept as it relates to what we intend to convey; each person adds a hint of who they are and what they've experienced to their word choices. As a Mental Health professional I was always inclined to ask clients to tell me more about what they mean so that I may be able to understand them a bit more fully. You see when we pick words, whether they "form on their own" or "we look for them" it does not mean that they express or imply the same thing that others might despite words' universal conceptualization. "How is that possible?" one may ask, but it's fairly simple. Each individual speaks a different language.
It is difficult to fathom the thought of someone speaking English and one not being able to understand them, but nonetheless it occurs daily in our lives. Lacan, a theorist that focuses on language and signifiers that open ways to the unsayable teaches therapists to help their clients find the universal definition of words that will enable others to understand us better, that would enable the client to understand him/herself better in particular to see light in the cyclical pattern of trauma. (of course this is a super vague explanation of this theory and although it's not more complicated it is very multifaceted).
I have come to a place in my life where I now see that I need to study my own language; I need to find the words that can describe what was of me and what I've become in order to allow others to understand me, so that I can finally whisper and be heard (by them, but more importantly by me).
It is difficult to fathom the thought of someone speaking English and one not being able to understand them, but nonetheless it occurs daily in our lives. Lacan, a theorist that focuses on language and signifiers that open ways to the unsayable teaches therapists to help their clients find the universal definition of words that will enable others to understand us better, that would enable the client to understand him/herself better in particular to see light in the cyclical pattern of trauma. (of course this is a super vague explanation of this theory and although it's not more complicated it is very multifaceted).
I have come to a place in my life where I now see that I need to study my own language; I need to find the words that can describe what was of me and what I've become in order to allow others to understand me, so that I can finally whisper and be heard (by them, but more importantly by me).
All my life I wanted to do something to help people. Come to think about it, I desired to reach out into the undesirables and pull them up into greatness. As time progressed I found myself growing hungry and nothing seemed to quench my stomach's quails. My drive was so intense that I embarked in an expedition to study crime, but only to learn a system founded on rehabilitative principles that practiced inhibition, invalidation, stunting growth, "restitution", and the disappearance of individuality. It makes perfect sense, here is why: as I learned, I knew where the gaps needed filling, where my work would render the most efficiency, where the difference had potential to evolve from. I interned at FMHA as an undergraduate, which catapulted me into an Applied Psychology program at NYU's Steinhardt; I loved it. I now want to help in the tx of persons who've committed sexual offenses. I am unsure if the fact that my (then) new found passion laying within this population is what led me to feel this way about "Lolita" by Nabokov, but I must make clear that I do not condone, nor do I think that such behavior is acceptable in any regard.
Still I found myself submerged into the conscious world of the protagonist or was it the antagonist?-- let's just say the narrator--all the while I aimed at discovering what laid in the subconscious to no avail as I wrapped myself in what was happening, what wasn't happening, and what was left to happen. I found myself cheering for the narrator as I conveniently, I presume, forgot that his heart's beat was creating the music of love for a Dolores Haze, Lola to some, but Lolita to him...a mere child of about 11years of age (upon their first encounter).
Page after page the reader is revealed secret after secret, is introduced to a new way of loving; however detrimental it had been to the child, one seems to find the "facts" irrelevant. Here is where I want to proceed to make a grand point. Although Nabokov has excelled in capturing the psyche of a fictional character, capturing the attention of its audience, of writing in superb eloquence, as his novel was reflective of expressive and articulate idiom, he stands to show that as a people, I being a prime example, we are desensitized to an extreme where such things as the plot and narration of the novel seems to be entertaining, rather than disturbing.
It is not just in this particular media, rather it is in all forms of media in combination with high frequency exposure that we become accustomed to seeing, hearing, letting be (even if not accepting), and tolerating that which should not. This blog was not written from a mental health counselor role, but it was indeed written after some reflection and hopefully with some intellect.
Still I found myself submerged into the conscious world of the protagonist or was it the antagonist?-- let's just say the narrator--all the while I aimed at discovering what laid in the subconscious to no avail as I wrapped myself in what was happening, what wasn't happening, and what was left to happen. I found myself cheering for the narrator as I conveniently, I presume, forgot that his heart's beat was creating the music of love for a Dolores Haze, Lola to some, but Lolita to him...a mere child of about 11years of age (upon their first encounter).
Page after page the reader is revealed secret after secret, is introduced to a new way of loving; however detrimental it had been to the child, one seems to find the "facts" irrelevant. Here is where I want to proceed to make a grand point. Although Nabokov has excelled in capturing the psyche of a fictional character, capturing the attention of its audience, of writing in superb eloquence, as his novel was reflective of expressive and articulate idiom, he stands to show that as a people, I being a prime example, we are desensitized to an extreme where such things as the plot and narration of the novel seems to be entertaining, rather than disturbing.
It is not just in this particular media, rather it is in all forms of media in combination with high frequency exposure that we become accustomed to seeing, hearing, letting be (even if not accepting), and tolerating that which should not. This blog was not written from a mental health counselor role, but it was indeed written after some reflection and hopefully with some intellect.
…And I wish I were a bird, so that I may ever so lightly sit upon a tree branch and intake that which surrounds me. Perched, submerged in tranquility I desire to gage outwards and admire the beauty that has been laid upon me. As I turn to my right I’d be able to cock my head back and expand my lungs as I inhale the positivity that has flourished at close proximity. As I slowly exhale I am overcomed* by an immense urge to spread my wings and stretch my extremities and so, I do. Smiling is not just something that happens on the external part of ones physique, rather it is something that radiates from within and I indulge on internal smiles as they warm my core. Over to my left I am consumed by the magnificence of the foundation that sustains my being afloat; how it is inhabited by various organisms and how strong it is to be able to give life and live simultaneously.
I wish I were a bird, not convinced what type, which species in particular, but wish I were one just so that I may be able to…experience the uninhibited…
I wish I were a bird, not convinced what type, which species in particular, but wish I were one just so that I may be able to…experience the uninhibited…
It is not that my eyes fool me. Not that I think there is, I SEE there is...All around me there is no laughter, there is no glitter, no twinkles in eyes, music in souls...
On the BX15, the crosstown bus that rides into the Bronx from my dear Harlem, I see a grim "once was". Buildings that should be demolished are still inhabited, streets that should be functional are caving in, people that should be rising have stood down.
Poverty is such a multifaceted concept; it is such an engulfing abstraction. It manifests in rippling effects and it consumes its (intended) target and then crushes it under its wrath. Hopelessness, despair, unhappiness, anxiety, disappointment, stress, weakness, destruction...seem to all follow you as if life were a magnetic field and you their adhesive counterpart. Endless becomes one's struggles and after enough time has passed, you come to lose sight of your predicament and you conform to its tragedy; you stop looking for doors, let alone windows, trapped doors and alternative escape routes; you sink as speedy as quick sand can suck you in and suck life out.
I sit and ride and try not to look, but if I pretend that it doesn't exist I too am like the rest: delusional (living in that which does not exist). So I force myself to look, I force myself to observe and not pray (I don't believe in an all powerful/ultimate being), but I FEEL. I feel for the people, for their children, for the community, for the amalgamation that's been constructed and dictated upon humanity, this humanity, that lives so deathly. I see the rear-ends of drugs peeking its head up at me, the dissonance between dreams & potential and reality, the surrendering being, the distressed, disheartened, and dispirited and I FEEL.
It is not a matter of observing and thinking and releasing the thought into thin air. We are not passive beings and we are not singular entities, we flourish amongst our flock; taking this into consideration, it is this that allows us all to fly, to be liberated. It is our ability to observe, think, and react (be active entities) that can generate change. You are one person and one alone, but it doesn't mean that you aren't a leader...lead.
On the BX15, the crosstown bus that rides into the Bronx from my dear Harlem, I see a grim "once was". Buildings that should be demolished are still inhabited, streets that should be functional are caving in, people that should be rising have stood down.
Poverty is such a multifaceted concept; it is such an engulfing abstraction. It manifests in rippling effects and it consumes its (intended) target and then crushes it under its wrath. Hopelessness, despair, unhappiness, anxiety, disappointment, stress, weakness, destruction...seem to all follow you as if life were a magnetic field and you their adhesive counterpart. Endless becomes one's struggles and after enough time has passed, you come to lose sight of your predicament and you conform to its tragedy; you stop looking for doors, let alone windows, trapped doors and alternative escape routes; you sink as speedy as quick sand can suck you in and suck life out.
I sit and ride and try not to look, but if I pretend that it doesn't exist I too am like the rest: delusional (living in that which does not exist). So I force myself to look, I force myself to observe and not pray (I don't believe in an all powerful/ultimate being), but I FEEL. I feel for the people, for their children, for the community, for the amalgamation that's been constructed and dictated upon humanity, this humanity, that lives so deathly. I see the rear-ends of drugs peeking its head up at me, the dissonance between dreams & potential and reality, the surrendering being, the distressed, disheartened, and dispirited and I FEEL.
It is not a matter of observing and thinking and releasing the thought into thin air. We are not passive beings and we are not singular entities, we flourish amongst our flock; taking this into consideration, it is this that allows us all to fly, to be liberated. It is our ability to observe, think, and react (be active entities) that can generate change. You are one person and one alone, but it doesn't mean that you aren't a leader...lead.
Ever since I was a little girl I would dream about marrying someone. I guess I wasn't always sure of what gender, but the idea of being committed to someone on such level brought happiness to me. Now, I didn't want the traditional, fairytale, all white, veil, long tailed-dress, flowers everywhere, 12-16 people court including a flower girl, family (those whom never been around) everywhere... I simply wanted so go to City Hall and marry someone, but for me. Never really conceptualized the obvious as it was already defined by society, but then I met him. One day as we partook in one of our many enlightening conversations, he asked about the topic: "Does marrying someone make you any more committed to that person than you were before doing so?" I thought it through for a second and then answered "ummmm....no". See the more I listened I realized that the values that "come" with marriage are built and sustained before marriage so the benefits to be reaped through marriage are simply the legal ones. By no means are these benefits smalls ones, but as it relates to loyalty, fidelity, CHOICE (to be in, to stay with, to grow along side of, to cohabit, to exist as one), and commit, I, now, see that the formal is not necessary in order for the preceding to exist. "On that level" became hollowed out words as I couldn't see what it meant, couldn't feel what the words tried to project. Some may think, "wow, he just manipulated you into thinking something that benefits him", but honestly there is some logic to his madness. Additionally, I think I like the idea of categorizing, myself, what it is that I am and represent, rather than allowing society to yet again infiltrate my life and do so.
...Be better than yesterday and aim for greatness, not perfection as perfection is subjective and you've already achieved that. Be more amazing that you once were, be more in love with yourself and love that person at all times for it is you that can impact the world and change what surrounds you... never be afraid to be you, (never be afraid to be powerful beyond measure)...
Reconceptualization is a life changer. Being able to alter one's perspective and transform the meanings words, events, and circumstances have and how they can come to impact the individual can set one free. It should no longer be about "what things I can change about myself", rather "the things that may need improvement", for example. It is of no use to see something within yourself that may need some readjustment and nothing be done about it, only to then wonder why the outcomes seem to be the same (unpleasant ones). Sometimes it is not the outside world one should be worried about; always, it is you you need to take care of first. Remember, you cannot learn to love someone truly if you've not come to accept yourself as you stand. Do not enter a mentality that one should love you as you are, flaws and all, when you've not come to an understanding of who you are; honestly, would that be a fair request?
It is very true that one who truly loves you will not try to change you, as it should be the case in vice-versa. People are not projects to be fixed or saved, rather humans exist to be companions, friends, lovers, alternatives to oneself, and relative to one another. Yet, it is also true that in order to grow together both individuals will eventually change; old patterns are forgotten and new ones can evolve, closed mental states may come to open up and be more accepting--all of which ultimately impacts the individual and expounds upon that which already exist. Reconceptualization will enable you to open yourself up to the possibility that you can exist in other forms and be happy. It requires one to think positively (as in growth), rather than negatively (as in control). Stand on a different angle of your life and glance over it all, can you see the difference, can you live in the difference, can you be different in exceptional ways?
It is very true that one who truly loves you will not try to change you, as it should be the case in vice-versa. People are not projects to be fixed or saved, rather humans exist to be companions, friends, lovers, alternatives to oneself, and relative to one another. Yet, it is also true that in order to grow together both individuals will eventually change; old patterns are forgotten and new ones can evolve, closed mental states may come to open up and be more accepting--all of which ultimately impacts the individual and expounds upon that which already exist. Reconceptualization will enable you to open yourself up to the possibility that you can exist in other forms and be happy. It requires one to think positively (as in growth), rather than negatively (as in control). Stand on a different angle of your life and glance over it all, can you see the difference, can you live in the difference, can you be different in exceptional ways?
Sometimes it is necessary to pick a corner and from upon it, gaze at it all. During this time all one should do is admired the beauty they can see from that particular perspective. Think about the images that arise, envision them before you; be in a trance if need be, and count the times you've felt amazing. Sometimes it is vital to step back and be something else, not someONE else, but someTHING else. Whatever it may be, let it become you and you it. It is from there that I want you to look at yourself, look at your life, and look at what stands with you and call it how you see it....
As the lights dim, I think about how I've made life a grand project of meaning making. Reconceptualizations are the foundations to my emotions, my thought processes, my core.... It will never again be about "what I need to change", rather about "what needs improvement". Words CAN and DO break us, but they can give life and it is precisely the latter that I've expounded upon in order to be stronger than ever.
Words have come to be my crayons, my paints and brushes and the people that surround me, my canvas--I color everyday, imprinting the most genuine, most beautiful portraits and scenery. As the lights dim, I have stepped back, become the wall and embrace all that I have, all that I've worked for, all that encompasses me and I blend, then fade all the while I stand tall and strong (as are most walls) and I think "wow it really can't be any better than this."
As the lights dim, I think about how I've made life a grand project of meaning making. Reconceptualizations are the foundations to my emotions, my thought processes, my core.... It will never again be about "what I need to change", rather about "what needs improvement". Words CAN and DO break us, but they can give life and it is precisely the latter that I've expounded upon in order to be stronger than ever.
Words have come to be my crayons, my paints and brushes and the people that surround me, my canvas--I color everyday, imprinting the most genuine, most beautiful portraits and scenery. As the lights dim, I have stepped back, become the wall and embrace all that I have, all that I've worked for, all that encompasses me and I blend, then fade all the while I stand tall and strong (as are most walls) and I think "wow it really can't be any better than this."
I can't remember if there was anything that happened before, but I can vividly remember: "fruityanny". Actually, the word rings louder and louder as I think about it. Even my "friends" used it to refer to me, you know dique de carinio. I guess it was okay, but they constantly pointed at my yellow socks, my sky blue corduroys, my red tank, my bland hair...Still I didn't think fifth grade was that bad. I had finally learned enough English to sound like the rest of them and well, fuck it I had a well liked big brother. I entered Junior High school and I had a lot of problems, still I knew things could be worse and I just did my thing...I had "loads of friends" the popular kind, but found myself confronting them quite frequently because they picked on others.
I remember Chris. He was really shy, didn't say much really. Wore his pants a bit high (around his ankles), had glasses too, never really looked up. I defended him once. Asked his name afterwards, he looked up, looked down and almost as if speaking to the ground replied, "Chris". I put the word out that Chris was to not be bothered (I was part of the "popular girls", who would undermine us?--lmaooo kids--). Anyway, I would say hello to Chris every time I saw him, he wouldn't reply; simply looked up at me, back down to the floor and and smile at it instead of at me. I really liked that Chris was a "nerd". Liked that he read a lot, was into video games and was ordinarily by himself. I wanted to be like Chris, but out loud you know?; I liked those things too, but couldn't because I had an image to uphold. Now, I wasn't the one picked on and I knew I wouldn't be an aggressor, not because I knew what it looked like on the other side of the coin, rather because it wasn't within me...I wasn't weak enough to do it I guess.
As I entered high school I hung out with two girls, they weren't really the popular types but dope as all heck! They were into goth, education, raves, dark things, light things, worldly things...cool things. During college, I found myself alone still. Had opposing views, beliefs, interests, wants...
I don't know how or when I transitioned from being "normal" to "weird" to simply "exceptional"; maybe I was never the first or the second, but I sure as hell was made to feel like I was certainly an unacceptable second (weirdo). I understand that all words are subjective and these are no exception, but I am who defines what I am...Who I am and what I am capable of. Being who I've become may have separated me from the rest of the world, but by no means has it made me less than. Being who I am, may not be in accordance to mainstream, may not be reflective of societal norms, but I am here to serve a purpose beyond norms and as time passes I can only hope to acquire more to separate me from you because honestly being me is dope. ;-)
I remember Chris. He was really shy, didn't say much really. Wore his pants a bit high (around his ankles), had glasses too, never really looked up. I defended him once. Asked his name afterwards, he looked up, looked down and almost as if speaking to the ground replied, "Chris". I put the word out that Chris was to not be bothered (I was part of the "popular girls", who would undermine us?--lmaooo kids--). Anyway, I would say hello to Chris every time I saw him, he wouldn't reply; simply looked up at me, back down to the floor and and smile at it instead of at me. I really liked that Chris was a "nerd". Liked that he read a lot, was into video games and was ordinarily by himself. I wanted to be like Chris, but out loud you know?; I liked those things too, but couldn't because I had an image to uphold. Now, I wasn't the one picked on and I knew I wouldn't be an aggressor, not because I knew what it looked like on the other side of the coin, rather because it wasn't within me...I wasn't weak enough to do it I guess.
As I entered high school I hung out with two girls, they weren't really the popular types but dope as all heck! They were into goth, education, raves, dark things, light things, worldly things...cool things. During college, I found myself alone still. Had opposing views, beliefs, interests, wants...
I don't know how or when I transitioned from being "normal" to "weird" to simply "exceptional"; maybe I was never the first or the second, but I sure as hell was made to feel like I was certainly an unacceptable second (weirdo). I understand that all words are subjective and these are no exception, but I am who defines what I am...Who I am and what I am capable of. Being who I've become may have separated me from the rest of the world, but by no means has it made me less than. Being who I am, may not be in accordance to mainstream, may not be reflective of societal norms, but I am here to serve a purpose beyond norms and as time passes I can only hope to acquire more to separate me from you because honestly being me is dope. ;-)
It is I who completes me, but it is he who fulfills me. Somehow I've come to absorb him through my finger tips as I touch him and his aura has liquefied and become one with me. He has traveled through my being and has kissed every artery, every cell, each aorta and with that he has ignited me. He has become the catalyst that sets me out to flourish into my full potential. He's infiltrated my brain and has set up camp. He makes me think I'm beautiful and makes sure I smile daily. He holds me tight, so that I can't slip away and makes sure to entertain my foolishness. I will not ask to be excused for being filled with butterflies as I think of him. & I will not cover up the Sparkles that are generated when we are together. & I will not allow the dimming of the twinkles in his eyes for it is he that places those in mine.
.
.
*laughs out loudly, then snorts* I am not skinny, I don't think I'm fat either, I'm somewhere in the middle. I don't have long soft hair for you to run your fingers through, I have short brown hair (it's semi-wavy now, but soon it'll grow into an unmanageable cotton ball). My breasts aren't perky, actually they sag a bit. My teeth aren't straight, right towards the top front, they elevate. I don't have an even skin tone, actually I think I have liver spots or sun damage or something I've dubbed "freckles"--I like freckles. I don't really watch T.V., I submerge into books and literature.
I like to make animal sounds, actually I wish it were a learnable (yes, I've just made up that word) language. I roar like dinosaurs, I run like gazelles, I climb like monkeys, and hold like pandas. I talk to myself too. I have a sleep disorder that inhibits my staying awake for prolonged periods of time...
I've come to be a girl that doesn't really like to be like most girls, but like the other-other girls whom are obsessed with the other type of things in life. One that is concerned at all times about people; about the wellfare of human kind. One who doesn't think much about snorting in public (because that's my laugh), one who doesn't always comb her hair (because I just simply don't like to do it), one who doesn't care about impressing people by the way she looks (rather I'll win them over with my persona and my uneven smile of course), one who is eladed by the thought of being at a playground, dirt on her knees, sweat down her back, a book in her backpack and some organic animal crackers.
I am an in progress, environmentally-conscious, book-loving, organic-consuming, pescetarian, that's in love with her punk-rockish, bearly-girly, unpredictable, superbly intelligent, humorous, non-god-believing, clumsy, non-brand concerned, perfect(ly) imperfect spirit of this galaxy. And you know what? I am beautiful.
I like to make animal sounds, actually I wish it were a learnable (yes, I've just made up that word) language. I roar like dinosaurs, I run like gazelles, I climb like monkeys, and hold like pandas. I talk to myself too. I have a sleep disorder that inhibits my staying awake for prolonged periods of time...
I've come to be a girl that doesn't really like to be like most girls, but like the other-other girls whom are obsessed with the other type of things in life. One that is concerned at all times about people; about the wellfare of human kind. One who doesn't think much about snorting in public (because that's my laugh), one who doesn't always comb her hair (because I just simply don't like to do it), one who doesn't care about impressing people by the way she looks (rather I'll win them over with my persona and my uneven smile of course), one who is eladed by the thought of being at a playground, dirt on her knees, sweat down her back, a book in her backpack and some organic animal crackers.
I am an in progress, environmentally-conscious, book-loving, organic-consuming, pescetarian, that's in love with her punk-rockish, bearly-girly, unpredictable, superbly intelligent, humorous, non-god-believing, clumsy, non-brand concerned, perfect(ly) imperfect spirit of this galaxy. And you know what? I am beautiful.
Who am I to talk to you about sex?! No one really. What gives me the right to even approach you with such a topic? the "right"?--I'm not sure I've acquired that. Then what sort of entitlement, maybe even interest, do I possess to come to you with this? Oh well, that's an easy one, if my generation is affected, I'm affected.
Sex is not a bad thing, as are most things in life, but being UNeducated about it, is-- as it is for most things (food, friends, carbon footprints*just wanted to throw that in there* :) etc.). Sex, whether it connects you to someone, gets you off, empowers you, (____fill in blank___), releases endorphins (derived from our pleasure principle) and it feels amazing! This is why I don't knock it. As humans we are hedonistic calculus, always looking to maximize our pleasure over pain, yet we are unaware that on the outskirts of this sexual portrait there is disease; some which can kill. As much as I love words I can grow to hate semantics. We are at a point in our lives where "chronic illness" has come to describe AIDS, and that to me is a double edge sword. The virus is not a bit over 20 years old. It had come to our attention about 25 years ago, as it af/infected us, but test tubes dating longer have been found to be positive in labs in Africa. Thus we've been toe-to-toe with this pandemic for quite some time. The issue is that yes, medication, treatment, and management has sorted out its initial tweaks--like death, but the disease continues to infect one too many. I will no longer stand by as people choose ignorance; ignorance is not an excuse and it will never be. Just because you think it's not happening doesn't mean it's not. You are not omnipresent and thus cannot gauge the magnitude of such an issue. It is all around you, it touches you, you breathe it and it exists!!
The virus is now a chronic illness! Kudos, right? The double-edge sword sticks and it fucking hurts my entire body. We've come to a point in our fight against AIDS where we can contain it. Where people are no longer dying. Where people live HIV+ and live well. This is a cause for celebration as this has been a treacherous battle, but is it?! This disease is not like cancer, where its etiology is a mystery, this virus is 100% preventable (let me repeat: ONE HUNDRED PERCENT PREVENTABLE). The Red Campaign has been working for quite some time to eradicate AIDS, but does that mean that with this eradication the numbers of seropositive people decreases or does it simply mean that people will no longer die from infecting, opportunistic diseases due to the acquiring of HIV?
I am not saying that I cannot appreciate the wonders that this can mean. I am not one of those people who finds faults with everything, but I am concerned because I believe that if you change the meanings of things you think differently and thus if you change "death from illness" to "chronic illness" people may begin to think that it is OK to be infected. Do not misunderstand and think that it is not OK to be infected and that those who have been, shouldn't come to terms because it is not OK; what I am saying is that if people can place HIV/AIDS on the same continuum as diabetes (an innately developed illness that can kill, but doesn't if taken care of) then the fear component is removed, the bit of caution one takes vanishes, and a "well, I wont die" or "she wont die from it" mentality can develop and I fear that that will be catastrophic!
Why do I emphasize this particular virus and not chlamydia, crabs, gonorrhea, all too preventable as well; or maybe syphilis that's preventable, but can kill too if untreated? Because AIDS/HIV has higher rates mortality (although these numbers have drastically dropped with the introduction of AZT, and the versions of medication that followed), because this particular one hits too close to home and I'm angry that it does. Harlem should be thriving and its dying. My generation should be innovative, spontaneous, radical, vivacious, and this, this impedes the maximization of such qualities.
As an eligible Mental Health and Wellness provider, I will not say that I am disappointed. Firstly, I do not believe I have the right to cast such negatively heavy sentiments over a person with with its usage. Secondly, an individual's psychological structuring cannot, will not, allow him or her to rationally come to terms with such a concept. It is not that we are unable to, it is possibly the doing of a coping mechanism--these protect you. The psycho-social components that should be taken into account are far to complex to even begin to think that education can resolve it. I am a prime example: with the abundance of knowledge I've attained have I had unprotected sex, even once? YES. Had I known my partner's status? NO. Have we even discussed condom usage or any preventative measure? NO. Had it crossed my mind right then and there that there was a probability for infection? NO...Am I an advocate for the virus' eradication? YES, hands down.
Still, I will not get tired of posting the fact that "knowledge is power". I will not let people down by becoming ignorant. Intelligence is not a fad, its a quality worth investing in, only IT can set you free and propel you into the unknown to then allow you to reemerge triumphantly. Do not allow things to touch home before they are worthy of your attention, as I did, find that which you are passionate about before it is a problem so that you are always part of the solution. :)
Sex is not a bad thing, as are most things in life, but being UNeducated about it, is-- as it is for most things (food, friends, carbon footprints*just wanted to throw that in there* :) etc.). Sex, whether it connects you to someone, gets you off, empowers you, (____fill in blank___), releases endorphins (derived from our pleasure principle) and it feels amazing! This is why I don't knock it. As humans we are hedonistic calculus, always looking to maximize our pleasure over pain, yet we are unaware that on the outskirts of this sexual portrait there is disease; some which can kill. As much as I love words I can grow to hate semantics. We are at a point in our lives where "chronic illness" has come to describe AIDS, and that to me is a double edge sword. The virus is not a bit over 20 years old. It had come to our attention about 25 years ago, as it af/infected us, but test tubes dating longer have been found to be positive in labs in Africa. Thus we've been toe-to-toe with this pandemic for quite some time. The issue is that yes, medication, treatment, and management has sorted out its initial tweaks--like death, but the disease continues to infect one too many. I will no longer stand by as people choose ignorance; ignorance is not an excuse and it will never be. Just because you think it's not happening doesn't mean it's not. You are not omnipresent and thus cannot gauge the magnitude of such an issue. It is all around you, it touches you, you breathe it and it exists!!
The virus is now a chronic illness! Kudos, right? The double-edge sword sticks and it fucking hurts my entire body. We've come to a point in our fight against AIDS where we can contain it. Where people are no longer dying. Where people live HIV+ and live well. This is a cause for celebration as this has been a treacherous battle, but is it?! This disease is not like cancer, where its etiology is a mystery, this virus is 100% preventable (let me repeat: ONE HUNDRED PERCENT PREVENTABLE). The Red Campaign has been working for quite some time to eradicate AIDS, but does that mean that with this eradication the numbers of seropositive people decreases or does it simply mean that people will no longer die from infecting, opportunistic diseases due to the acquiring of HIV?
I am not saying that I cannot appreciate the wonders that this can mean. I am not one of those people who finds faults with everything, but I am concerned because I believe that if you change the meanings of things you think differently and thus if you change "death from illness" to "chronic illness" people may begin to think that it is OK to be infected. Do not misunderstand and think that it is not OK to be infected and that those who have been, shouldn't come to terms because it is not OK; what I am saying is that if people can place HIV/AIDS on the same continuum as diabetes (an innately developed illness that can kill, but doesn't if taken care of) then the fear component is removed, the bit of caution one takes vanishes, and a "well, I wont die" or "she wont die from it" mentality can develop and I fear that that will be catastrophic!
Why do I emphasize this particular virus and not chlamydia, crabs, gonorrhea, all too preventable as well; or maybe syphilis that's preventable, but can kill too if untreated? Because AIDS/HIV has higher rates mortality (although these numbers have drastically dropped with the introduction of AZT, and the versions of medication that followed), because this particular one hits too close to home and I'm angry that it does. Harlem should be thriving and its dying. My generation should be innovative, spontaneous, radical, vivacious, and this, this impedes the maximization of such qualities.
As an eligible Mental Health and Wellness provider, I will not say that I am disappointed. Firstly, I do not believe I have the right to cast such negatively heavy sentiments over a person with with its usage. Secondly, an individual's psychological structuring cannot, will not, allow him or her to rationally come to terms with such a concept. It is not that we are unable to, it is possibly the doing of a coping mechanism--these protect you. The psycho-social components that should be taken into account are far to complex to even begin to think that education can resolve it. I am a prime example: with the abundance of knowledge I've attained have I had unprotected sex, even once? YES. Had I known my partner's status? NO. Have we even discussed condom usage or any preventative measure? NO. Had it crossed my mind right then and there that there was a probability for infection? NO...Am I an advocate for the virus' eradication? YES, hands down.
Still, I will not get tired of posting the fact that "knowledge is power". I will not let people down by becoming ignorant. Intelligence is not a fad, its a quality worth investing in, only IT can set you free and propel you into the unknown to then allow you to reemerge triumphantly. Do not allow things to touch home before they are worthy of your attention, as I did, find that which you are passionate about before it is a problem so that you are always part of the solution. :)
I am not a feminist, I do not believe that against all odds, history, perception, etc. a woman is as equal to a man as a man is to another of his gender; simply this belief is unreal, not unrealistic, but untrue at this point in time. I will not sit here and babble about how SHE is HIS equivalent, but I will sit here and write about her strengths (as well as her weaknesses). I need not be like HIM because being a SHE rocks the shit out of this world. You see, I will also not sit here and talk about how unrecognized HER work is, how underpaid SHE has always been, or how SHE must always stand in the shadows of her man. Rather, I will simply point out the fact that she takes care of EVERYTHING that needs be; she doesn't need a trophy to commend her for her hard efforts, she doesn't need a medal that states that she has gotten everything done on her "to-do" list or even a pat on the back because the little bit of time she has left she has used to get started on tomorrow. She is by far beautiful in the most sensual ways, and it is not that she hides behind her husband or partner, nor is it that she needs a "protector", nor is it that she "allows" him to BELIEVE that he is the representing face/force of their family, rather sometimes it just feels good to have someone else take control and take care of things...to show face for things. I will not say that SHE, woman, needs to be a housewife, one who cooks and cleans, and fulfills the roles of a she once existent in the the 1950s, but I am also not here say that she should be arrogant, boisterous about not NEEDING anyone... See, this is why we are typecast and viewed as exaggerated creatures, because we went from one extreme on a continuum to another. Where is the middle ground? did we know one even existed?
I, by no means, expect nor encourage anyone to just be contempt, rather I am urging one to be REAL. So, realistically speaking how would house chores be separated in order to not have one or the other partner feel subordinate? realistically speaking, how can a woman be a woman and FEEL like a woman all the while allowing her man to be a man and FEEL like a man. You see I can't stand women who protest against it ALL; only allowing for the rest to be labeled "complainer", rather be intellectual and conquer with that precisely. Does "communication" ring a bell?! not to many! Unfortunately, we are so concerned with "ME", "I want this done this way", "you need to fix that thing", "why can't it be my way", etc. that we forget that we are not alone. We share life, consciously with others, with our partners, and thus if we continue to think this way why aren't we alone so that it is about "ME" and "doing this, this way", and "no one needing to fix that thing of theirs" and it being most importantly, "my way". It is not about a powerstruggle, unless you define it as such. It is not an issue of subordination, indignation, or downright oppression. It is an issue of communication and redefining that which is, that which isn't, and that whom you (both) become (to the other).
I, by no means, expect nor encourage anyone to just be contempt, rather I am urging one to be REAL. So, realistically speaking how would house chores be separated in order to not have one or the other partner feel subordinate? realistically speaking, how can a woman be a woman and FEEL like a woman all the while allowing her man to be a man and FEEL like a man. You see I can't stand women who protest against it ALL; only allowing for the rest to be labeled "complainer", rather be intellectual and conquer with that precisely. Does "communication" ring a bell?! not to many! Unfortunately, we are so concerned with "ME", "I want this done this way", "you need to fix that thing", "why can't it be my way", etc. that we forget that we are not alone. We share life, consciously with others, with our partners, and thus if we continue to think this way why aren't we alone so that it is about "ME" and "doing this, this way", and "no one needing to fix that thing of theirs" and it being most importantly, "my way". It is not about a powerstruggle, unless you define it as such. It is not an issue of subordination, indignation, or downright oppression. It is an issue of communication and redefining that which is, that which isn't, and that whom you (both) become (to the other).
About Me
- Psychdowl
- I'm a bit eclectic, pulling from all fascinations/interests that ultimately creates this creature, so full of life. I'm a bit spontaneous, a spirited, intellectual type being, something out of the ordinary, really. I'm enchanted by Freud, Frankl, Rogers, Erikson...so into skateboarding (although I can’t skateboard) and so into rock (the jerk your head in all directions type). Dig goth, CIVIL RIGHTS & humanitarian causes. Am engrossed in dancing out of rhythm, uncovering new discoveries, nature, recycling, mother earth, & reducing carbon footprint. I Adhere to a NO MEAT POLICY (am pescetarian, rather), & am wildly in love with frogs, owls,&; books. I'm this amalgamation of that which most find to be irrelevant to their being; this composition of randomness that radiates positive energy and aggressive growth. I'd like to think that I'm exceptional, as I still believes in dreams, unicorns, pots of gold at the end of rainbows, and in the beauty of the human race (the only race).
