That Voodoo You Do!
Imagine if you had the perfect lighting director (the sun) and the perfect director/producer (divinely-inspired genetics) on a big-budget film about you (your life). What would you do with the spotlight?
Sitting around on the sofa like a slouchy glump at my older brother's house, I heard the door bell and did not budge. "M.~?! Get that!" B.J. called out to me. I moaned like a belligerent child and padded toward the door. It was the FedEx guy with a Saturday delivery. The sun had just broken through for the first time in about an hour and was shining right on the stained glass door. I opened the door and startled the FedEx guy. "Uhm...I have...I have a delivery for..." I smiled sweetly, "It always helps ME when I read the box." He kept staring at me and my brother, curious as to who was at the door, came around the corner from the kitchen. "Kewl!" my brother shouted as he read the box upside down, waking the delivery guy from his gazing slumber, "'NeeeDA! It's your dress from Brooks Brothers!" My sister-in-law was upstairs and my brother was too excited to wait for her to come down. "Let me sign that for you my good man!", my brother said, smiling as he grabbed the electronic clipboard and signed. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me back from the door as he said, "Have a good day" to the FedEx guy and began closing the door.
"Excuse me, sir?" the delivery guy managed before my brother fully closed the door. "Yeah?" my brother answered. "Is that your daughter? I just- I mean- shes'...very...pretty..." My brother gave me a look I have gotten from him and other male relatives. "Yeah? Well thanks." my brother said as he completely closed the door. Later that day as we were eating ice cream, my sister-in-law and brother were whispering in the hallway. When they entered the room, my sister-in-law, Bella-Netta [her name is a Creole version of La bella netta ignuda< "the beauty(ful)naked net(snare)"], plopped down next to me on the sofa. "Well! Heard you collected a new crush!" I was 'Netta's favorite in-law to tease. While growing up, my brothers were super over-protective. She was my buffer between B.J. 'killing' pubescent boys around our neighborhood. "Haha!" I managed between spoons of ice cream. "How do you DO it?" "Wha-?" "That thing you do?"
I don't really DO anything! I have seen my mother walk into rooms where she was the most modestly dressed of all the women, and capture every man's attention in the room; I've seen my older sister smile and giggle, dragging men from hallways into conference rooms; both my sisters have caused minor fender-benders just by walking down streets or through parking lots. To call this phenom je ne sais pas (I don't know) is un mensonge (a lie) because I know it has to do with the very essence of what makes me ME. I have never been a great beauty: on my mother's cattiest days, she describes my years from nine until fifteen as "that six year ugly phase". She would often say during that time, "At least you're cute to mommy". based on the 'ugly phase' comment, this is a lie. I am very unusual looking; with the surge in visibly multi-racial/multi-cultural people in the world, weird-looking is in. If it takes someone more than three minutes to figure out 'what' you are, they assume you are EVERYTHING.
In prior posts I have gone through the erroneous cultures I have been associated with, one needn't rehash this. However, I do believe that this same misunderstanding leads to men and women behaving as if entranced by my face; studying my posture and gait; focusing on my voice and speech; enthralled in the most mundane aspects of my life. I am an 'autumn baby' but when the sun shines upon me I glow like I was meant to worship it- although I am a redhead and burn with too much exposure. This has been noticeably occuring since my childhood. Even content by myself, other children would 'flock' to me, wanting to know what I was doing, what I was reading...sometimes what I was thinking. They wanted me to share so much of myself that sometimes I cannot help but hide from others...the attention gets unbearable!
Somewhere, there is a person reading this post that fades into the beige wallpaper of the doctor's office and they are cursing me RIGHT NOW. I know our society is full of 'the grass is always greener' personalities, but I do not wish to be them. I am hoping that I make them more aware that being the center of attention quite often is not a perfect blessing, but a bit of a bother. I bore easily because all anyone wants me to do is talk about ME. I like learning from others, usually those who are not that much like myself. This is difficult when people just want to hear about what you are doing/have done/will do.
And so I sit alone at parties sometimes praying someone else does something spectacular so that I can sink into the sofa. But there is always some guy that begins serenading me with Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely", replacing my name for Mr. Wonder's daughter Aeisha's; or some woman/couple that met me previously that wants me to share some anecdote I shared with them, with others. I am not that interesting- REALLY. I am artistic and my flourish in speech is a side effect of my mastery of the language arts. I am a terminal Libra: I could not escape being a social buttefly, attracting people or being genteel if my life depended on it.
As I leave you with this self-promoting post, I hope those of you whom rely on me to be your shining star, your bluebird of happiness realize...I am not always happy, nor am I constantly in need of your attention. YOU decide to come to me when I am perfectly content being in my bedroom flat with The Cranberries playing as I read Maupassant in his native tongue. It's not that I am unappreciative when we go out and some club owner/manager becomes smitten with me and gives us VIP treatment all night...it's just that I am starting to feel a bit...used and over-extended. Could someone else be the goddess tonight?
For those who are still pushing pins and needles in a voodoo doll of me...open your eyes and realize what this post is really about.
Sitting around on the sofa like a slouchy glump at my older brother's house, I heard the door bell and did not budge. "M.~?! Get that!" B.J. called out to me. I moaned like a belligerent child and padded toward the door. It was the FedEx guy with a Saturday delivery. The sun had just broken through for the first time in about an hour and was shining right on the stained glass door. I opened the door and startled the FedEx guy. "Uhm...I have...I have a delivery for..." I smiled sweetly, "It always helps ME when I read the box." He kept staring at me and my brother, curious as to who was at the door, came around the corner from the kitchen. "Kewl!" my brother shouted as he read the box upside down, waking the delivery guy from his gazing slumber, "'NeeeDA! It's your dress from Brooks Brothers!" My sister-in-law was upstairs and my brother was too excited to wait for her to come down. "Let me sign that for you my good man!", my brother said, smiling as he grabbed the electronic clipboard and signed. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me back from the door as he said, "Have a good day" to the FedEx guy and began closing the door.
"Excuse me, sir?" the delivery guy managed before my brother fully closed the door. "Yeah?" my brother answered. "Is that your daughter? I just- I mean- shes'...very...pretty..." My brother gave me a look I have gotten from him and other male relatives. "Yeah? Well thanks." my brother said as he completely closed the door. Later that day as we were eating ice cream, my sister-in-law and brother were whispering in the hallway. When they entered the room, my sister-in-law, Bella-Netta [her name is a Creole version of La bella netta ignuda< "the beauty(ful)naked net(snare)"], plopped down next to me on the sofa. "Well! Heard you collected a new crush!" I was 'Netta's favorite in-law to tease. While growing up, my brothers were super over-protective. She was my buffer between B.J. 'killing' pubescent boys around our neighborhood. "Haha!" I managed between spoons of ice cream. "How do you DO it?" "Wha-?" "That thing you do?"
I don't really DO anything! I have seen my mother walk into rooms where she was the most modestly dressed of all the women, and capture every man's attention in the room; I've seen my older sister smile and giggle, dragging men from hallways into conference rooms; both my sisters have caused minor fender-benders just by walking down streets or through parking lots. To call this phenom je ne sais pas (I don't know) is un mensonge (a lie) because I know it has to do with the very essence of what makes me ME. I have never been a great beauty: on my mother's cattiest days, she describes my years from nine until fifteen as "that six year ugly phase". She would often say during that time, "At least you're cute to mommy". based on the 'ugly phase' comment, this is a lie. I am very unusual looking; with the surge in visibly multi-racial/multi-cultural people in the world, weird-looking is in. If it takes someone more than three minutes to figure out 'what' you are, they assume you are EVERYTHING.
In prior posts I have gone through the erroneous cultures I have been associated with, one needn't rehash this. However, I do believe that this same misunderstanding leads to men and women behaving as if entranced by my face; studying my posture and gait; focusing on my voice and speech; enthralled in the most mundane aspects of my life. I am an 'autumn baby' but when the sun shines upon me I glow like I was meant to worship it- although I am a redhead and burn with too much exposure. This has been noticeably occuring since my childhood. Even content by myself, other children would 'flock' to me, wanting to know what I was doing, what I was reading...sometimes what I was thinking. They wanted me to share so much of myself that sometimes I cannot help but hide from others...the attention gets unbearable!
Somewhere, there is a person reading this post that fades into the beige wallpaper of the doctor's office and they are cursing me RIGHT NOW. I know our society is full of 'the grass is always greener' personalities, but I do not wish to be them. I am hoping that I make them more aware that being the center of attention quite often is not a perfect blessing, but a bit of a bother. I bore easily because all anyone wants me to do is talk about ME. I like learning from others, usually those who are not that much like myself. This is difficult when people just want to hear about what you are doing/have done/will do.
And so I sit alone at parties sometimes praying someone else does something spectacular so that I can sink into the sofa. But there is always some guy that begins serenading me with Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely", replacing my name for Mr. Wonder's daughter Aeisha's; or some woman/couple that met me previously that wants me to share some anecdote I shared with them, with others. I am not that interesting- REALLY. I am artistic and my flourish in speech is a side effect of my mastery of the language arts. I am a terminal Libra: I could not escape being a social buttefly, attracting people or being genteel if my life depended on it.
As I leave you with this self-promoting post, I hope those of you whom rely on me to be your shining star, your bluebird of happiness realize...I am not always happy, nor am I constantly in need of your attention. YOU decide to come to me when I am perfectly content being in my bedroom flat with The Cranberries playing as I read Maupassant in his native tongue. It's not that I am unappreciative when we go out and some club owner/manager becomes smitten with me and gives us VIP treatment all night...it's just that I am starting to feel a bit...used and over-extended. Could someone else be the goddess tonight?
For those who are still pushing pins and needles in a voodoo doll of me...open your eyes and realize what this post is really about.
posted by ScreenGoddessComplex at 2:21 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home