Heroine Complex

there’s nothing like the steady, familiar sound of an old friend’s voice, telling me to come home, that can melt away all the sad, mad, bad feelings the world has impressed upon me. it takes me back ten years, when the world was filled with possibility, powered by realized dreams, inhabited only by good people and i had an actual place in the grand scheme of things.

it’s been a while since i felt the way i used to: sunshine-y, happy, contented and world-is-my-oyster-ish. most days i’m just running around, holding my breath with my fingers crossed, praying so hard to not mess up. its getting to me. it’s really really getting to me.

for that one moment of calm, it feels like everything is going to be alright and that i will weather this storm, and come out okay like before.

he said “come home” like it was a real and honest suggestion and i had the power to actually decide to do it.

i wanted to say “okay. yes. i’ll be there.” but i don’t have that.

instead, i found myself saying - in total and complete honesty “i wish i could.”

suddenly, like dorothy clicking her ruby slipper heels, i’m back awash in the cold hard reality that is new jersey. i am thirty years old. i have important things to do and people counting on me to do them. the madness comes undone and i have to move.

(i miss you, paulie! happy birthday!)

rain was pouring

like a lullabye

from a thousand music boxes

unwinding and rewinding

all at once.

the awkward ballet

of windshield wipers

hypnotic-symmetric

beaten down then rising up

almost like friends

waving hello.

waving goodbye.

my hands should remember by now

after a million mornings

the road home is unchanged

will they find their way without me?

i am praying

i am hoping

that i bit down hard enough

so my bleeding lip

will keep my eyes open

long enough to get there.

it hurts to move

but i refuse to crash.

the hem of my skirt feels like icicles, swishing accross my thighs and knees.

i’ve lost my shoes somewhere in the chase.

i’ve been running.

running in the rain.

running. running.

still running.

my feet are hurting.

my calves ache.

he’s chasing me and i’m lost.

there is a staircase to my left.

a house.

a place to hide.

there is no sign of him.

the one who is chasing me.

i can’t see his face.

all that i know is i have to run and he must not catch me.

run or hide.

what would you do?

—————————-

and then i wake up.

i barely sleep anymore but for the past few weeks i’ve been dying in my dreams. he always gets me in the end.

what does it all mean?

i’m so tired.

I have stopped wearing make-up. I seriously have.

The people who don’t know me too well are probably going "so what?!" but the people closest to me know how huge this is and probably feel like they have just stepped into the twilight zone right about now.

I rarely leave the house without a couple drops of concealer, some blush and eyeliner. "Baka the paparazzi is there!" I would joke. Lately though, I haven’t bothered with a single speck. I’ve had an existential catharsis.

I just up and realized one day while getting ready to go out, how tedious and pretentious it all is. It dawned on me how it was all about "making up" for the things we lack or don’t have. Concealer to hide an imperfect complexion. Foundation to build a face different from the one you have because you don’t feel the one you have is good enough for people to look at. Mascara to hide your eyes behind a frame of thick eyelashes you weren’t born with. Blush for the youthful glow that simply isn’t there anymore.  Essentially everything is done to thicken what is too thin, to make sparse what we have too much of.

We fake what’s not there and hide what is. All this to feel worthy to be looked at by people who will think what they want about you just the same regardless of what they see. We hide in fear of being judged by our flaws. Ultimately altering our appearance is the price tag for acceptance. Its a wonder how anyone actually manages to actually feel good about yourself anymore, in the day and age where possibilities abound when it comes to molding our appearance in other people’s standards of beauty and perfection.

I have set out to challenge myself until i am comfortable in my true skin once again, stretching out the limits of my comfort levels to accommodate a concept so simple yet a little nightmarish: I am at week 2 of my experiment, and I’ll have to say it’s easier than i thought. I am actually quite proud of myself, hence this "pat-on-the-back" blog. Ever since I picked up my first tube of MAC Nocturn Lipstick (You scoff, but this was 1996, the Gwen Stefani/Lisa Loeb era so if you think about it, it was pretty hip back then!  Ummm, do people still say "hip"?) I never stopped.

I actually feel quite empowered, more confident and a little more free. Its a little different being able to rub an eye-itch without worrying about looking like a raccoon or having my hair stick to my lip gloss. The compliments are encouraging. (Except that one I don’t quite know how to process about me looking like I’m "twelve". That was a little disturbing.) I don’t know how long this au-naturelle streak will last, but for the meantime, I can honestly say I am loving this and I encourage anyone reading this to try taking this less frivolous road I’ve embarked upon.

A friend at work asked me why I’ve decided to stop wearing make up. I guess the simple, honest reason behind it is this: to prove to myself (most of all) that I still can. And guess what? I CAN.

Me: Do you love mommy?
Miggy: Yes!
Me: How much?
Miggy: Twenty seven dollars!
—
Miggy: When did u get back?
Relative We Shall Not Name: Get back from where? I didn’t go anywhere.
Miggy: Yes you did! Mommy said you were in Sane!
—
Mommy, why is water wet?
—
Miggy: What’s tomorrow?
Me: Your brother’s Chistening.
Miggy: What’s a Christening?
Me: Its when people become Christians.
MIggy: What’s a Christian?
Me: People who believe in God.
Miggy: What’s God?
Me: (struggling to keep things simple) he’s the guy who made all things in the world. Plants, animals, people. Everything you can see God made.
Miggy: Who made God?
Me: (STUMPED AND SPEECHLESS)
Miggy: (I guess he sensed I could not answer the previous question.) What are animals made of?
Me: Matter.
Miggy: What’s Matter?
Rich: What? Is your grave not deep enough? (Laughing and feeling kinda sorry for me, I think.)
Me: The tiniest parts of things.
Miggy: Oh u mean like a puzzle?
Me: EXACTLY!
Miggy: so who made matter?
Me: God
Miggy: So who made God?
—
Me: Look Miggy! A blue whale. (National Geographic was on.)
Miggy: Actually mommy that’s a humpback whale.
Me: Oh. Finish your milk.
—
Me: Andoy (the baby) don’t pull kuya’s hair.
Miggy: Its okay mommy. He’s just doing baby things. He doesn’t know it hurts yet.
—
Miggy: Mommy are we chinese?
Me: No we’re Filipino.
Miggy: Ok. Are we Japanese?
Me: No we’re FILIPINO.
Miggy: Are we white?
Me: No we’re asian.
Miggy: Does that mean we’re black?
Me: No we’re yellow or brown.
Miggy: Can I be green?

i want you to say, "you have a point there, lee."

but you would never say that.

and then in my head, i try to list down all the things you would say or could have said in response to my tantrum.

and then i realize that i can’t really vouch for you. i never could.

why would i ever want to?

we are so different and i love that.

who wants to dance with a mirror?

i was never one to "play well with others".

and you get that. you really do.

you are strong when i’m weak.

which happens a lot.

i know my way when you’re lost.

which happens more.

its the way things are.

its the way things should always be.

its the way things should always have been.

i am shadow and you are light.

you seep in through the grains

explore dimensions of myself i never really saw before

until you.

1. When you round-off Winona Ryder’s age, she’s 40.
2. Christian Slater has no hair left. Imagine if I actually married him like I said I would! Eeewww!
3. Pearl Jam’s "TEN" celebrates it’s 15th anniversary this year!!!
4. Claudia Schiffer is still a model… but she’s a model for anti-wrinkle cream.
5. Four out of the five Spice Girls are MOMMIES!
6. Sean Penn (as in Madonna’s Husband Back When I Was 8 and Lip-sync-ing to Every Song on TRUE BLUE) is dating someone MY AGE!
7. Tom Cruise is married to someone MY AGE!
8. I’m older than Manny Pacquiao!!!
9. My son asks me "When You Were Little…" Questions
10. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan look like they should be characters on "Death Becomes Her".
11. Steven Tyler is someone’s GRANDFATHER!
12. "Edward Scissorhands" is being marketed as a CLASSIC.
13. Sean Connery finally looks ancient. (At least Pierce Brosnan is still beautiful.)
14. Mom lets me get away with saying bad words in front of her.
15. I hear dirty jokes from my parents. (EEK! Never fun!)
16. Signing checks to pay bills.
17. Saying "NO!" in a toy store.
18. When people ask me how old my "ELDEST" is.
19. When I’m being asked for advice on what to wear to a 90’s THEMED party. My teen years are a THEME now! WTF?!
20. When I look at my old Dr. Martens.
21. Watching 80’s-era commercials on youtube.
22. Hearing "Ice Ice Baby" on the radio and dammit I STILL KNOW ALL THE WORDS!
23. Seeing crow’s feet around my eyes that my husband swears are figments of my imagination… (Isn’t he wonderful?!?)
24. The 21 year-old new girl at work. I remember being the 21 year-old new girl at work.
25. When the 21 year-old new girl at work asks me for advice on why she should go back to college.
26. When I see teen-age girls at the mall and get shocked at what they are wearing.
27. Hearing Britney Spears being described as a has been.
28. Grocery Shopping on a friday night. (Exciting weekend plans! Be still my heart!)
29. Going to children’s parties and actually sitting still without being told to stop running around or being yelled at for crashing into things.
30. Actually getting old and turning 30 in exactly fifty days.

My Five Worst:

1. Diablo Cody looks like she went rummaging through vintage stores in Bedrock.
2. I think Marion Cotillard is gorgeous, but only Ariel can pull of the mermaid look.
3. Renee Zellwegger looks like a 12 year old drag queen. The dress was just not right for her shoulders. She looks manish in it.
4. Tilda Swinton attended the Oscars in a Hefty Original.
5. I think Jennifer Hudson has a really pretty face, I really don’t understand why she chose to showcase her fat back.

My Top Five:

1. Katherine Heigl channeling Jayne Mansfield. Love it!
2. At first I thought Jennifer Garner looked like a mess with her hair, but the overall look was so glamorous.
3. Heidi Klum once again slaps the fact that supermodels are a different species from us regular-folk in our faces.
4. Kerri Russell shows everyone the right way to do minimalist.
5. If I was invited to the Oscars, I’d totally steal this look from Anne Hathaway.

sometimes people do things that ruin my faith in humanity altogether. people are selfish by nature. people are rude. mostly its people i choose to believe in despite what other people tell me, so when the situation blows up in my face i get to be told that i was forewarned.

so there i was on wednesday night, stewing behind the wheel, for reasons i would rather not divulge now. it was the perfect weather for driving to work mad (sarcastic statement): the air was cold, the rain was pouring down and the roads were frozen and slippery. i could do no more than 40mph on the garden state parkway (where people mostly do 80, even though the speed limit is 65.) and really i was getting more mad and more frustrated by the second.

just as i was beginning to enjoy and find comfort being angry at the world for failing me, i saw the tail lights of the pick up truck on my right swerve and waggle, sending a mile-marker flying my way and landing straight across my lane. thankfully there were only about eight cars on the highway that night, and i was able to switch lanes without running it over. although my neck and back have been sore since.

i’m not writing to gripe about that though. what happened next restored my faith in the goodness people are capable of.

the car before me, screeched to a halt on the side of the road. the driver, despite the dangerous driving conditions and bitter cold, ran out (in what i thought were pajamas and a fleece sweater, no less) to the stopped pick up truck to see if the driver was alright. right before my eyes, this complete stranger was putting his life at risk, just trying to see what he could do to help.

i wasn’t even brave enough to pull over after such a harrowing and extremely stressful experience. i couldn’t even think. when i got to work five minutes later, i promptly called 911 and the state police and reported the situation.

this stranger, without even knowing it, saved my faith and made me resolve that people aren’t entirely a bad lot. there is hope. it would have been so easy, to drive away from the situation and just push it off your mind. it would have been so, so easy. but this was not the way pajamaman’s brain was wired. i know nothing about him, what his background, age or race was. the fact that i was witness to his heroic act, for a mere and fleeting 5 seconds, has changed me forever.

there are people in this world who still make living in it worthwhile. i don’t need to turn into one of the bitter, angry people surrounding me. i don’t want to be the kind of person who gets too involved in the rat race, that they forget its also important to be nice, kind and good. i want to be better than that.

i want to be like pajamaman.