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.
0 Comments
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! I want to be honest. I have been feeling like I must suck at life. I have been putting in 40 years of effort and I'm not accomplishing anything worthwhile. I'm not making a mark on the world and I'm not living some other things that are important to me. I feel like I obviously must not have any talent for life and I have been feeling down since I realized this. But. Five and a half months ago I had a beautiful, bright ray of pure life joy come into my life, Luca. The most wonderful puppy on the island. She sparkled with energy and love of life. Always up for a game or a walk or both, or just follow me around at all times to lay down by my feet. She was smart and was relentless in her pursuit of the cat. To her, the cat must have been the most boring puppy ever to have existed. He must have been faulty, because he never wanted to play and his barks were all wrong too. And it was her daily challenge to steal his food. I took Luca for walks at the beach three or four times a week. Sometimes as training, on the leash. And other times free to run wild through the sand, which she did. She stuck her nose in anything and if she found something that fit in her mouth it would go in her mouth. A few weeks ago she bit my finger hard when I was trying to pry a bone out of her mouth. She probably thought it was the bone, that's how hard she bit down on my finger. My nail bed broke and I still have the hemorrhage underneath as a reminder of her hunger to experience and taste everything. She was as brave as any superhero. She was always 'securing the perimeter' before I went anywhere, even though she was scared to go there herself. She walked through spiky plants, on slippery rocks, jumped on and off docks that were too high for her and she barked at me if I went swimming in the sea, because she couldn't secure that whole big wet noisy moving thing. Eventually, her solution became to sit still and stare me out of the water. Worked every time. Her eyes were the best eyes in the whole world. I have never seen such complete devotion and trust in any other eyes. Is there a word that means completer than complete? I would like to use that to describe what I saw in her eyes. And I love her so, so much for that. Every day I would hug and squeeze her and tell her how happy I was that she was in my life and that, in a way, she had chosen to live with me. That she was so amazing, so smart, so beautiful, such a joy to have around. She would then turn away from me, probably because she was tired of hearing the same thing over and over. Then I'd squeeze her some more, for good measure. But she got sick. It happened very fast and the vet doesn't know for sure, but it was probably Canine Ehrlichiosis (karpattenziekte). It started 5 days ago. She was eating a little less than usual and she was chasing the cat a little less. But I thought she was still ok. She was still bright and happy and following my every footstep. I didn't know it was serious. Until two days ago. She had gotten short of breath and was losing coordination. We both didn't sleep during the night. The next morning, yesterday, I took her to the vet and went back in the afternoon because she was getting worse and had stumbled to the most difficult corner in the yard as though saying 'this is where I want to die...'. I myself died a little right there. I couldn't bear seeing her like that. It hurt that she went from such a vibrant pup to a tiny baby that was feeling so miserable that she wanted to die. The vet said that her body was too weak and that I needed to make e decision... Now my heart is broken. How is it possible that a being that is so full of life and joy is no longer here and that I, not really seeing the point of it all, still am? It doesn't make any sense. I keep repeating this inside my head. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense. I have been walking around the house, seeing signs of Luca everywhere. Smells, her toys, newspapers on the floor in her toilet corner, her bowls, her food in the fridge and in the pantry. I see the cat, preparing to have her jump on him from an invisible corner. But most of all I see signs of her in me. I have been saying good morning to her even though she's not on the other side of my door, because I can't yet handle not saying good morning to her. Out of habit I check the floor before I stretch my leg out or move my chair. I hear her nails on the floor tiles and I turn to not see her come running towards me. I open the door to the yard and I remind myself that we don't need to make a toilet round before going back in. I already knew this, but now more than ever I understand that Luca was a master at being loving and kind. I'm sure there are many more gifts she added to my life, but for now I am devastated by the size of her unconditional love for me. I hope I ever get to her level in my lifetime. I am sharing this personal story with you, because I need a way to pay tribute to the immense, loving being that was Luca, today, while I'm in my sadness. I am honoring her life by remembering that I should not undervalue the source of the love or kindness that is shown to me. I know this is cliche, but sometimes cliches exist for a reason. Kindness may come from someone who has nothing to give or a 2 year old or someone you don't even like. So train yourself to recognize it when it's in your life. Likewise, you should not underestimate the impact your kindness may have on someone else. If you can get to the unconditional level, like Luca was (and actually all dogs are), then you have truly mastered this thing called love. SpiralsIn about 5 days I will complete my 40th spiral around the sun.
I have taken a whole year to get used to saying forty, by replying 'I'm almost 40' when someone asks me my age. Which at the same means forfeiting my last chances of saying thirtynine. And even that. Sacrificing my last thirtysomething year, did not help. Yesterday it hit me hard. The complete ridiculousness of having to say forty. Not believing your own age is weird. I know I don't look my age. And I know I don't feel my age. But with every cell of my body not believing my own age was a new level of weird. It's a twilight zone I didn't know existed inside myself. But enough about the shock. Let's do something else. This blog is called Spirals. Spirals are pretty. And they're the fabric that is our universe. Look at DNA. Now look at a galaxy. Now look at a wave. Now look at how the planets move around the sun. Now look at shells. Now try walking on a straight line when you're drunk. See? Spirals everywhere. Spirals are not the same as circles. They do move in circles, but go a level up. Or down. Depending on which way you're facing. More than 10 years ago I started kinda blogging on MySpace. Then, in 2007 I started writing a book. Then in October 2015 I wrote a guest blog for T'Aki Mi Ta Beba (TMTB). Many people liked it. Shared it. Posted it everywhere. Even today I was approached by a newspaper. They want to publish it. I asked them if they knew it was a blog from 2015. They don't care. Go ahead I said. They will they said. I continued blogging weekly with TMTB. Then I stopped blogging. 2 weeks ago. I needed a break. And some time to hide under my rock. I thought it would take at least a few months before I felt like blogging again. But my skin is turning yellow here, underneath my trusty old rock. My eyes watery. And my writing juices apparently are still flowing. Because here I am. Again. Writing. About nothing. Yet. Spirals are everywhere. |
Photos used under Creative Commons from julian_fern, Humphrey King