THANKFUL FRIDAY

Monday and Tuesday this week, I rode Valerie (the scooter) to work. Monday’s ride was spectacular. Tuesday’s ride was…not so great. I left the house under fairly mild conditions. The high for the day was 75 degrees, but I knew a cold front was moving in at some point. I bargained on being home before the front moved in. I was wrong. When I left work at 6:00 PM the temperature was 43 degrees. I had to stop at a local pub for an AIDS Walk Open Volunteer meeting. When I left the bar at 7:00 PM, the temperature was 38 degrees with strong gusts of wind. I was four blocks from the house when it started sleeting. It was not even remotely ideal scooter riding conditions, but I did it and I’m still alive.

I am notoriously territorial about my scooter. I don’t want anyone other than me riding Valerie. The same was true with V. I know Chris rode V once because that’s how he discovered my back tire was bad. He didn’t ask permission; he just did it. So there could have been other times. I don’t know. Once, I let my brother ride V home from work. He and Katrina were finishing up a long motorcycle ride to Canada and had stopped at my house. I went to work on V and let them have my car for the day, but at the end of the day, the city was hit with a downpour. My brother had all the rain repellant gear with him. So they came and got me in the car. I drove my car home and he drove the scooter so I wouldn’t get rained on. I am forever grateful he was there to do that.

Michael jokes about my territorial attitude towards the scooter and needles me about letting him ride my scooter constantly. Look, I am often the passenger when he’s driving a four wheeled vehicle. I am often behind him when we are on scooter rides. I do not approve of his driving techniques and this is why I will not let him drive my scooter. There is also something to be said about having things of your own. I would never ask to ride Michael’s scooter. For one thing, I’m not confident I have the strength to handle it. His scooter is heavier and has a bigger engine. For another thing, I don’t feel the need to share everything.

I struggled with my identity for a long time after Chris died; not that I think my identity is solely tied into a thing. It is a simplification of all the things, thoughts and ideas that are truly my own. I had so thoroughly woven my identity with Chris, that I couldn’t really tell what part of my actions or thoughts were Chris’s actions and thoughts or my own. I never noticed this while we were Chris and Cindy mostly because the two of us were so often on the same page about things both emotionally and intellectually. But when he was gone, I wasn’t sure how to be just Cindy. Eventually I figured out that I’ve always been just Cindy, that my identity wasn’t absorbed or defined by my relationship with Chris, but rather enhanced by it.

Being a little territorial about some things like my scooter or my writing or my ideas is my way of maintaining my own identity. Women, especially, have been trained to feel guilt for wanting/needing something of their very own, that we are being selfish for wanting our own time and space. This is yet another patriarchal lie that I am burning to the ground. Several times this week, I have looked at my reflection in the mirror and been surprised by my own cuteness. I have looked and thought “Hey there, cutie.” I may have even said it out loud and when I have finished taking note of my cuteness, I have whispered “you are deserving.” I am deserving of my own space and time. I deserve to be a little bit selfish.

Hey there, cutie. You also deserve to be a little bit selfish.

IF I WERE A BAD GIRL

There’s an exercise in this book on women empowerment that I am reading that asks you to fill in this sentence “If I were a bad girl, I’d…” It is an exercise designed to expose your desires. What would you do if there were no societal rules or the rules you set for yourself? I haven’t gotten any farther with this exercise than just giving it a tiny bit of thought. It is a little bit of an overwhelming question because of the infinite possibilities, but in a moment of stillness, I pondered this question and the first thought that came into my head was that I would quit my job and become a real photographer. I’d buy a camper van and drive out to the dessert to photograph all the different shacks and dwellings that break up the desolation. I wouldn’t worry about money because I’d conn some billionaire into funding my adventures.

The way the thought just put itself right there in that spot of my brain between my eyes was like having a cold cup of water splashed into my face. I mean, just two hours earlier, I’d had a wave of self doubt about my showing hit me so hard, I felt like I was drowning in it. But the pure selfishness of the thought itself felt like eating chocolate cake. I get that this is the point of the exercise. It’s not supposed to be about anyone else but yourself. It is your opportunity to be completely and utterly selfish. I also think it is supposed to flip your idea of ‘selfish’.

self-ish: (of a person, action, or motive) lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure.

So many of us women were raised with the belief of selfishness as a sin. We are taught to be selfless in all aspects of our lives. Your wants and desires come second to those around you, if they come at all. This, to me, makes those around us who subconsciously take advantage of our selfless acts the truly selfish ones. My bad girl request isn’t even all that “bad”, except the part about stealing. It does draw a pretty obvious map to some desires. This is the time of year when I come down with a case of wanderlust and want to be anywhere but here. I’ve talked about solo adventuring before but lack the amount of bravery required for me to (without guilt) load up and head out. It’s like I’m waiting for an invitation or permission.

Friday evening, Micheal, Phoenix and I travelled downtown to check out the art reception for the artist that is currently in the space where I will be hanging my photos in May. I also needed to measure the wall space. The reception was in the lobby of the hotel the Starbucks is attached to, so we walked in through the hotel. I froze immediately stepping through the doors because I was currently drowning in a new wave of self doubt. The current artist had tables and lots of merchandise. Handbag, backpacks, coin purses, watch faces. Anything he could print is art onto, he had it for sale. Michael took one look at my face and steered me directly into the Starbucks to measure the walls. I loudly in a panicked whisper said “I do not have merch!” Michael assured me that I did not need merch. We measured the walls and then I took a breath. I headed out into the lobby to introduce myself to the manager in charge of the art and the current artist. I asked questions. I socialized. I drank a terrible but strong margarita and we left.

I spent too much wasted time on thinking about possible merchandise options before deciding that I do not need merchandise. I’ll have postcards and prints. Michael made me templates of the walls with proportionally sized rectangles of my prints. I started placing rectangles and making lists. I curated the photos I want for the space and afterwards I thought “I am a real photographer.” Everyone else around me seems to know this better than I do. So my Bad Girl request, my opportunity for selfishness, is a request to do more to curate myself. Even my default Good Girl status can see that this is not a very Bad Girl request.

I guess, the thing I learned from this exercise is that I’m bad at being bad.