You'll notice that I wrote 'ladies'. Not women, not bitches, not gals, chicks or babes. We may be babes, but we're ladies and we happen to be single. A few people have been asking me lately why I'm single. What type of man I like. How many men are waiting in line for a chance to date me. But you know what. I'm one of the thousands of amazing ladies (yes, I'm amazing and so are you) on the island who are single because we do not settle for what's being offered. So no, there's no line. A few weeks ago, my neighbor got angry at me for not wanting to get to know someone she sent me a photo of. 'Yolanda, you really disappoint me' she yelled through the fence 'I would never have expected that you, an intelligent woman, would look at a photo, A PHOOTOOOO, and claim to already know that you two won't be a match!!' I almost agreed with her wondering what was wrong with me. How can I not even give someone a chance? But you know what, I've passed the 40 threshold and have come to a place where I'm fine by myself. I always was, but now I'm finer than the fine I used to be. If you're not adding good stuff to my life I'm not interested. And with "good stuff" I mean high quality ish! Quality you cannot find on the island but have to research for weeks and order online. Not literally, but you know what I mean. Because We The Single Ladies, have got our shit together. Yes, we may drop a few balls here and there. Those balls are the small turds that sometimes come out after you've already dropped the main shit load. (Can you tell I love poop jokes?) But we handle that turd. Alone. So you, Mr. Man on the island we call home, need to come correct. You need to connect with us on our level and you need to come with feeling. Come with emotion. You, need to feeeeeeeel it. We can feel it when you feel it. We can feel it when you don't. When you want just the benefits but not the rest. When you want just the sexting in the middle of the night. When you want the drama so you can feel wanted. When you want someone to have endless discussions with, because you're so intellectual. When you want someone to make you feel good when you didn't connect with your real woman. When you need to boost your imaginary manhood by juggling multiple women. We can feel all of this and more. We may not be able to verbally explain what we're feeling, and sometimes we'll need to check your eyes to confirm, but we always catch your vibe. Now Mr. Man, we know you think you impress us by calling us dushi and babe in the first conversation we have. Honestly, we ask you to not ever do that, with anyone ever again. Don't try to manipulate women by faking feelings you don't feel. And don't underestimate our ability to discern the vibes we're getting from you. Coming correct means being real. Be ok with where you are. If it's nervous, be nervous. If it's intimidated, be intimidated. If it's insecure, be insecure. Be. ok. with. where. you. are. We have been ok with where we are for ages and we SO admire a man who can be vulnerable enough to be ok too. If you can't be ok with you... as you, you're wasting our time. It's not our intention to be rude, but it's just how we live. We have worked hard to get to where we are. And it's an ongoing process to stay where we are. There's no freewheeling here. You'll need to understand that we are hyper vigilant of any disruption of the stability we have achieved. This may mean that many single ladies on the island will become old spinster ladies in the future, but most will probably choose that over the disruption a man may bring by not being true. By not truly connecting with us. Our complete us, not just some aspects of us. Just our bodies or our minds. Our image. Our persona. To truly connect. That's what anyone craves really, deep down in the darkest, furthest, tiniest crevice of our purest hearts...... true connection. So why waste time with anything less. As for what my type is. I'll explain it once. My type is the man I look at with my heart and what I see is his heart looking back at mine, every time. He may stumble with his words but that doesn't matter. If his heart keeps looking at mine through the stumbling, that's the heart I want.
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I don't know what I came here to write about, but it's been a while since the last time and I feel like expressing myself in writing. Not privately, but publicly. Which, every time I feel this urge, is a very strange sensation for me, because I have an innate need to be invisible. To be as anonymous as possible. And at the same time I feel the need to influence the world and leave it a little better than when I came into it. As you can imagine, this is a strange limbo to live in. So I wonder. How did I end up in this limbo in the first place? Is it because we women have been conditioned into being pretty but invisible? Into not rocking the boat? Shying away from the spotlight? I think for a big part we have. We have allowed ourselves to be put in glass boxes where we can be looked at, but not heard. Where we can be pretty without being a personality. All of this is nothing new. We have heard this same song for the last 7 decades, at least. But we're almost in 2018 and the song hasn't changed. The way women react to it hasn't changed much either. We still bitch and moan about not being equal. We still shout from the top of our lungs that we women should unite. And at the same time we keep raising our sons differently than our daughters. At the same time we keep accepting less pay. At the same time we keep gossiping about other women every chance we get. We keep overreacting about awful things women do and underreacting about the same awful things men do. We keep assuming that a surgeon is a man. We keep underestimating a female CEO. We keep calling our female friends 'my bitches'. We keep letting ourselves be interrupted by someone else, but expect a man to keep talking. We keep associating weakness with feminine traits. How are we owning up to the fact that we are to blame for the biggest part of this inequality? Are we even aware of being the biggest party to cultivate this unbalance? No. We are unaware because we are too occupied living out our drama. Singing our song. Which means we must be getting something out of it. There must be a benefit for us hidden in the drama of yelling 'we should be equal to men!'. On some level, we are choosing the false benefits of our drama over authentic equality. It is not easy to admit this about ourselves. We would rather blame someone else for our misery. But if we're truly honest, we know. We KNOW that we are the ones who have been maintaining this misery. I think this is good. This is a first step. A first step to come out of any misery, really. Acknowledge your own contribution to it. And then?
And then we let this awareness sink in and take some time recover from this blow to our persona. And then we go out in the world again. With this huge essential shadow part of ourselves, integrated into our collective psyche. And now we live our daily lives, aware of our shadow. Aware of our actions that foster inequality, helplessness and dependency. And we learn to live unapologetically authentic lives. Grounded in the awareness of our actions. Aware of how we speak, how we dress, how we listen, how we treat others, how we own our weaknesses, how we love, how we respect, how we live. This awareness will make us whole. This awareness will replace the false benefits we have been getting from the drama. Because being whole is being enough. I'm about to break a record. The longest I've lived in one country was seven years. When I was younger I didn't have a choice. I moved when my mom moved. Then, as an adult I moved when I got what I call "the itch" to move. The itch is a mental restlessness. It starts very slow, very faint. If you're new to the itch you won't notice it in the beginning. Not until it grows until a real, serious itch. A feeling that you can't resist but scratch. And the scratch is: looking for other places to move to. Doing research, taking a trip, looking for jobs online, researching rent prices and more. And more. Which actually makes the itch worse. It makes it unbearable, until you're ready to move even without a job or a place to live in (which I don't recommend). I haven't had the itch in 8 years. I'm actually proud to say this so I'm gonna repeat myself (normally I hate repeating myself), I haven't had the itch in 8 years! In August I will be living in Curaçao for 8 years, officially, because I was back on the island in February 2009 but had to go back to Barcelona for a month to pack. If you ask me, I think a huge part of not getting itchy has been buying a house. I call it my anchor. It keeps me from drifting off to Itchland. Although being a third culture kid I always have my eyes open for life in other countries. But now, without getting itchy. And there's more to this record-breaking milestone in my life. I want to keep this itchless life. I don't want to move to another country if I don't have to. No epic life for me, please. There. I said it. My life wasn't any kind of epic before, but it was restless. When I look around I keep seeing people trying to have/living epic lives, having epic meals, taking epic trips to epic countries where they meet epic people who tell epic stories. As if being epic is the new "I have succeeded in life". More power to you if you want that. I will epically enjoy your stories while I'm living my boring life. And there was no sarcasm there. I really will and do enjoy your epic stories, if they come from a genuine place. My boring life will be me living in a nice house with a nice yard, and some day with someone to share life with. I'll get groceries at the same supermarket. Get gas at the same gas station. Drive on the same roads to the same job for years and years and years. No one will know me, except maybe the people at the supermarket and the gas station, and I will know no one, except maybe the people at..... yeah, you get the point. I have been living a pretty unepic life for a few years already and I think I'm getting good at it. The people at the supermarket and gas station know my face, but I see them wondering about my story. Maybe they don't know yet, that a story is just a story. I just smile and say hi. For the next few years I'm finding the bigness in the small things. The hugeness in the micro. I would like to read and paint and go to the beach and work in the yard or decorate the house. I would like to spend time with friends. Have true connections with interesting people. Encourage more kindness around me. I would like to have enough time to disconnect as well. Be by myself in peace, under my rock. I want to explore the farthest and darkest corners of myself and, if he will let me, of my special life-sharer. Epically boring. Yeah... I'm so looking forward to that unepic life! So what is corruption. For the last week I have been thinking about this question since I was asked to write a blog about it and, knowing that I’m not a corruption expert, I’ll just share my personal definition of corruption without looking it up in the dictionary. Corruption, to me, is every- and anything that is not truthful. Any situation, action or inaction where someone profits by not being honest. By my own definition we are all corrupt. Myself included. I’d have three fingers pointing back at myself if I dared to point one at someone else, claiming they’re corrupt. I download free music online and stream movies that are still playing in the theaters. Sometimes I drive into one-way streets from the wrong side. I have kept too much change for myself instead of giving it back to the cashier. I “borrowed” my mom’s car once to go out (and hit the fence trying to back it out of the yard. She never found out. Until now probably. Sorry mom!). And sometimes when I’m late I sliiiiiide through a red light, but this is only because I don’t have my own helicopter yet. There’s also corruption on a bigger scale. There are people who suddenly become the proud owners of a second car, a new yacht or a nice house on the waterfront. They got them as ‘gifts’, just for advising their clients that certain brands are better than others, when they should be neutral. Or what about giving your cousin the deal when you know he uses substandard materials. That’s corruption times corruption. Corruption². And there’s corruption on a huge scale, where a whole country or the entire world is duped because of some people’s interests. Certain treatment for illnesses that are used to “cure” a patient. Or letting everyone believe that certain foods are healthy when there’s evidence they’re not. Decimating the trees in the Amazon for mining operations. Power and profit are more important than everyone’s wellbeing, it seems. Some corruption seems worse than others, especially if more people suffer as a result. But in reality it’s all relative. As ‘the perpetrator’ we all tell ourselves that it’s actually not so bad. In the moment of truth we all convince ourselves that worse things have happened. That we have a right to be happy and that we work hard for our piece of the pie. When the ones who will be cheated out of their piece are anonymous faces we have never seen and will never speak to, the decision becomes easy. And then we all do what we do. We cheat. I won’t compare one form of corruption to another, but what I want you to be aware of is that we all go through the same process. We all get to a point in certain situations where we have to choose between honesty and dishonesty. And in some cases we all… I repeat: we ALL, choose dishonesty. We all choose to benefit off of others’ detriment. We all decide to use our god given brain cells to cheat. Why? Because we don’t want to own up to the thought that we’re not enough. Not rich enough. Not good enough. Not there fast enough. Not smart enough. Not in control enough. And we’re even more afraid that others will find out. The disgrace! I want to propose an alternative. Because living on a small rock in a mighty big ocean, we should all realize that we need to live with each other. Not just co-exist, but LIVE. We really can’t afford to be nasty, disrespectful or dishonest to our fellow islanders unless we are willing to let our standards slide and live on a viciously competitive small island in a few years’ time. An island where it’s “everyone for themselves”. We do have another option. This is it: I am ok with not being enough and I am ok with you too not being enough. I’m ok with all of us being a little less awesome, a little less in control, a little less flawless than we really are. I’m ok with slowing down. I’m ok with not knowing some things. I’m ok with you not being able to do some things. I’m ok with them being wealthier than I am. I’m ok. Period. I’m owning my ok-ness and I hope you do too. So……….. next time, while I sit patiently in the traffic jam home and you want to insert your car from the parallel road I expect to see you holding up an EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA sign. That would be very ok. |
Photos used under Creative Commons from julian_fern, Humphrey King