And you can’t lose what you never had
Usually I update at the moments when I’m super happy and excited about stuff and write a whole unrefined editorial about it. I start writing when I’m not so happy but post never gets published because I never seem to stop writing and I eventually get tired. This hopefully doesn’t happen today with this post. But anyways today was Monday and now transitioning into Tuesday and Monday really sucked because it was a Monday and that meant another process I refer to as school. College, school, and academia are three distinct things to me. Thank God I’m still able to make certain distinctions. Not completely hopeless. Just self-absorbed.
But last week was awesome of course. Thursday we had Condom Couture which is a fashion show where all the designs were entirely made out of condoms. The purpose was to promote awareness about AIDS, sex, and the importance of using protection during sex. It was very educational and I got a lot of free and varied condoms as a result. I’ll donate them to my wing because I’m sure some summer romances are about to bloom and get hot like the 90 degree weather. But anyways here are some pictures courtesy of my homegirl Jackie of the dresses at the fashion show.
So that was last week and this is what I do while here at UT. I love going to this college and I do not look forward to the summer (as usual) for many reasons. Funny how I’m at the same place I used to be last semester. Same helpless feelings. Same irrationality. But am I still the same person? Oh I hope not.
Today in art history Sebastian introduced us to this amazing (well I consider her amazing) artist named Tracey Emin who is known for her controversial and blunt portrayal of parts of her personal life. Like for example one of her works is a representation of her bed with wrinkled sheets, discharge and wrinkled condom wrappers around the periphery. Another work is a tent with all the names of people she slept with. It’s fun stuff that she gets criticized for. She is definitely my type of woman. But aside from that Sebastian posed a question and some dude in my class started saying stuff about how Tracey Emin is kind of overrated because her artwork is only about herself and that she is a self-exhibitionist. This kind of angered me because he was critiquing her in that arrogant tone of his like he was some expert on what should be considered art and blah blah blah. So what if the woman wants to do it on her most personal aspects of her life. It’s what she knows and it’s what she shows. Sebastian also asked us what our response would’ve been if a man had made the same tent with all the names he slept with. I didn’t answer at the time because in my mind it was not coherent.
But it’s coherent now. I know people in our class would answer and say that it would be less of a shock if a man made it and that makes me sad. What’s wrong with a woman having multiple partners? I am reminded of this one song with Christina Aguilera saying something like If a man does it then he’s got game but if a woman does the same she’s a whore. Everytime someone mentions about a woman being a player that image of Christina with those pink shorts on flashes in my mind. I’m just weird but still rational when it comes to interpreting art. Looking at works of art gives me hope that I do still have some rationality within. It gives hope that I haven’t lost it all. But that does not stop me from feeling that I lost it all. That reoccuring feeling of helplessness that’s keeping me from being the mature woman that I know I am.
Like Tracey Emin I have to be a self-exhibitionist because other than my self what do I know? Over time I finally unmasked and rasterized every part of me. I learned to accept that I have flaws, that I have desires, that I have needs and that I have some influence to whatever or whoever is around me. And that they influence me too. I can write about something that I see or someone that I know but I can never know all of it. Because nothing is ever a completely open book. Only can read two pages per turn before going to the next two. And sometimes pages are ripped out so it never makes sense. I have some pages ripped out of me. It is my only hope that whoever meets me is illiterate. That’s a horrible thing to hope for but I can’t be read. It’ll make me too weak. But I know I’m being read and I love it nonetheless. Well I don’t know anything. All I know is myself.
Speaking of weak, the Swine Flu is creating a whole bunch of hoopla. CNN talked about the whole time these past few days and just today all the hype seems to have died down. Hopefully this Flu thing stays on the news and doesn’t become part of my or someone else’s that I love own reality. Sucks for the people who have it though but I’m going to be selfish and say that thank God that I don’t have it with all that is going on right now in my head and hopefully not anywhere else. I should really stop listening to Landon Pigg if I don’t want the Swine Flu. Okay that was weak and totally lame. But it was totally me and like Tracey Emin I am going to take my self-exhibitionist self and embrace it.
Embrace. It’s a verb that I long for but will probably if given the opportunity never do. I hate being made hopeless. Oh the stuff I know and the stuff that others don’t. Oh the stuff I wish I was naive to. I very much want to say it all but I don’t know whether I should. But being my self exhibitionist self (because that’s a totally sucky thing to be according to that guy in my art history class who’s a major L-squared loser) people will already have a hint and all they will ever have is a hint. Because they can’t know all of me. I won’t allow it. But I’m not God either and we all know that in matters such as these God always seems to win. I accept my defeat and it brings the most beautiful days of my life after I fix or replace that broken vase I call pride. Okay I get it. This is nonsense. Will terminate and return to normal sensical jargon. But I need to sleep first. I didn’t understand why I felt sad at the beginning of this post. I’m glad that I’m lost as I am right now. I’m the luckiest bitch in the world. I guess I just misread myself….again 
