Musing on the commodification of intimacy

These song lyrics disturb me: "She gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind." How do we change the "gift" culture that objectifies and commodifies intimacy (emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical intimacy), so that people don't walk away from unfit relationships feeling like damaged goods or worse, stay in unfit or even abusive relationships because they feel like they've "[given] everything [they] had," so who else would ever want them? The commodification of love in the context of relationships makes me sad, and it makes me worry for my children.

My first kiss should have signified something, communicated something, something like, "I like you. I trust you enough that I'm willing to make myself physically vulnerable to you in this particular way. You're superswell." Of course, it didn't. It was more like, "I'm bored; you're bored. I've never kissed anyone, and I just want to get this first kiss thing out of the way." So, what actually happened there is that I used that kiss as a signifier that usually means one thing when it usually means another -- like nowadays, kissing, for me, communicates, "I trust you. You're superspecialbloodyawesome (the act of kissing signifies something these words do -- they communicate things -- that kiss was nothing more and nothing less than the act of communicating). So what kissing actually did in that scenario was communicate ineffectively. Here's the problem. The extreme weight given to chastity and purity and the notion that our kisses are all gifts for our future one and onlies, and once we give them away, we can never get them back. We will be diminished. We, as things -- as products -- as objects -- as big human bags of commodities -- will be depleted, with less to offer our future on and onlies. Oh God, I bought into (I chose that word on purpose) that line of horse shit for WAY too long and hated myself a lot because of it, because I was such "damaged goods" such a depleted sack of commodities to give to my one and only.

What was reeeally wrong with that first kiss is how I perceived it for so many years -- as wasted.

 I "wasted" my first kiss

 But that's not what happened. That kiss wasn't a thing, it was an act. I don't look back at the first time I said a particular word and think to myself, "FUCK! I said that wrong! I wasted that word. It'll never be the same again." A also don't look back on a word I've been using wrong, like had the meaning confused, and think, "OH GOD! MY life is OVER because I never knew what that word meant, and now that I do, I realize how empty and broken I am for ever and ever and ever because I didn't understand the meaning before."

 It was an act that communicated something. Just like all acts that build intimacy, among friends, among family, among lovers, acts ranging from cooking a nice dinner to making a noodle necklace to watching a sunset together to tiny forehead kisses. These all convey love and build intimacy on many levels and different ways, dependent on the contexts.

They aren't commodities to be exchanged -- not THINGS to be given!

OR taken.

 AND don't even get me started on people being perceived as property, "Be mine?" Oh HELL NO!

 I mean, I'm taking that to an extreme. If my daughter's sweetie wants to refer to her as his or her partner or girlfriend or whatever, that's cool, because our language doesn't really contain any other way to say it.

 I mean, we say "my mom, my friend, my kid, my sweetie, ..." But the "my" in most of those contexts seems "relational" -- like demonstrating the relationship. This is my "relationship signifier" isn't the same as this is my car.

 Ugh, I need to help my kids with this stuff without sounding crazy -- haha!

Thankfully, life is long. I'ma take a break now and watch a movie with the kidlets.

So there's half day kindergarten here, but full day for kids who need "extra help," soooo I thought I was some kinda smartypants by not workin' with A with numbers and letters and reading and stuff all summer (extreeeeemely hard to resist but worth a shot), but my smarty monkey tested high anyway. Sooo, now I'm searching for half-day child care. Why the HECK don't any childcare centers put their freakin' prices online?! Grrrah! Yay for a smart monkey. Boo for daycare centers.

Sometimes when I feel like I haven't accomplished much lately or like I'm not growing, I need to look further back in time. Changes happen so subtly sometimes that they are imperceptible in a narrow time frame. For example, 20 years ago, I was terrified to leave my house alone at night, even to go to the grocery store. I remember psyching myself up to walk the 20 feet from the hair salon door to m

y car on the rare nights that I closed and no one was there to walk me to my car (at 9 p.m.). And I'd arrive home after driving about 5 miles, exhausted from the effort put forth to stay calm, and I'd congratulate myself, telling myself to be satisfied with baby steps. Now, my favorite time to shop is in the middle of the night -- alone. I go to a dance class that starts at 9 p.m. -- alone (sometimes). I drive home -- alone. I sing to radio music -- alone. I go anywhere I want, anytime I want, after dark -- alone. I don't need to find and follow my breath to stay calm. I just am. I don't know when this change happened; it was so slow and subtle. See? We grow. We just don't always notice it. So, keep with the baby steps, even teeeeeny steps away from whatever is toxic in our worlds are moving in the right direction.

I love monogram seeds -- A

Letter on the floor

Dear, momy

Gideon just called Simon a bish

Love Lydia

Gogo

When  I get a fox, I won't put him in a cage.  And I will get him a gingerbread man -- a remote controlled gingerbread man.

A new year

This year will hopefully be heaped high with good changes and also with more of the same in terms of good stuff.

November and December were a month of blessings in the form of set backs that forced me to really evaluate who the heck I am and what the heck I'm doing. I'm grateful for those set backs.

I new quarter has begun, and I love my classes. The big girls are in the awkward predicament of tending to their sibs on their own for about two and a half hours on two different days during the week. This is the most responsibility I've ever given them, and one week into the quarter, they are handling it wonderfully!

I wish I had some brilliantly thoughtful things to write here, but right now, I have syllabi to finish up. Soon, soon, there will be something more interesting to read here.