January 10, 2005

• The Introspective stuff previously mentioned.  WARNING!!!! I divulge more here about the movie "Frida."  If you have not seen it, but want to, I suggest you don't read it (don't want to ruin it for you).  If you have seen it or will not see it, then read on, it's the 2nd part.

  
  

  I am a biker hippie. I am a wild recluse. I am a walking oxymoron. I am contradiction. Yet, I make it blend, I make it work. How? Why? As a libra, I am always looking for the perfect balance, but to be so polar opposite of myself is...well, odd. Can one be contradictory? I think so, so long as it is not in a hypocritical manner. Yes, I’m a hippie. I love the birds & tress & being out in nature. Part of that, for me, is being on a bike, or in my car. I often get lost amongst the tree leaves as I drive. Riding or driving is a very free, open feeling to me. It does help me to reconnect with nature. Am I wild? To some extent. I have the tattoos & piercing, I have the music, too. I am a homebody, though. I’m just not terribly social. Being home is safe & comfortable for me. I don’t like crowds, and I don’t like parties or bars. I am wild with myself, I guess you could say. How did I get this way? I don’t know. I think I’ve always been this way. I am proud of the fact that I am multi-faceted, that I have a depth greater than 2 dimensions. It is a little odd that I can go from the New York City Ballet to a ‘67 GTO in no time flat, but it means I get to enjoy more of the world. I feel open to more things, more open-minded, more willing to learn or try. And I have learned how to balance total opposites. I am a walking oxymoron. I am contradiction. I am proud of that.

  
  

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  We saw "Frida" tonight. It’s an amazing movie, it really is. Very powerfully. Done in an extremely creative an artistic way. Beautiful. It touched me on many levels, at several different points, but there was one part that really hit home. She became pregnant, and was told that she would most likely not be able to carry, but she tried anyway. She miscarried. She is rushed into the hospital. It then jumps to a scene to the doctor speaking with her husband. She comes out of the room, screaming & crying to see her baby. She does. The next scene is in her hospital room, her deformed child in a bottle of formaldehyde. She painted this incredible painting of herself, the miscarriage, and her son. It was so amazingly powerful. It was extremely difficult for me to hold back the tears. Granted, that is a horrible thing & most people would cry from sympathy. For me, however, it was more than that. That was me. That was my pain. That was my anguish, my despair. No, I didn’t miscarry. I prayed every day that I would, just so I wouldn’t have to terminate. The gods decided that it was not going to happen for me naturally. So, instead I forced a miscarriage. I paid someone to do to me what nature had done to Frida. I loved my child as much as she loved hers. Just because I euthanized my child, does not mean I’m some unfeeling, heartless bitch! It destroys me every day. The fact that I had to make that decision, for some poor, innocent child who would suffer so much, in so many ways. I told my best friend that I do feel like a mother who miscarried. The pain is the same. What I felt, what I went through is the same. It was the worst decision I ever had to make. All I can hope is that my child will forgive me. That she will understand why I did what I did, and that I can enjoy her in paradise.

  
  

  • 8:32 pm
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