Wednesday, February 18, 2009

song for a morning

I was just introduced to this artist. Simple lyrics, guitar but the voice does something to me. I could sit in the dark and listen to this with a glass of wine and go to lovely places.


The End
Sibylle Baier

Countdown to thirty, seven days. I had one of those dreaded conversations this last weekend with a relative. I was warned. Men get harder to find the older I get. I was counseled not to be too picky. Yeah. . . Because I forgot the part where I attach my self-worth to whether or not I am in a relationship or spawning. Settling for something is better than being alone. I avoid family gatherings to a certain extent because of those conversations. I know a big part of it cultural, Latinos are about family and the old-school relatives just don't get how a woman can be happy without a man at her side and a womb full of limbs. My dad looks at me with something akin to pity or fear at my content solitude. His whole life has been about family and he wants grandchildren. My babies are my my poems and stories. My love goes there first. If anything else comes along, cool. If not, cool. There is a big family gathering this weekend, my birthday party. The first child of this generation blazing her way, alone, into another decade. There will be raised eyebrows and pity. Whatever. I'll eat the food but I certainly won't drink the kool-aid.

2 comments:

Sharline said...

Girl, I totally hear you. I have been there.

Substitute Mexican and Puerto Rican relatives with Chinese relatives.

I was told verbatim: "You can't afford to be too picky." "It's harder the older women get."

"You're like milk, sitting on a shelf. You're past your due date and soon no one will buy you." -- my Mom

Because, you know, that's all we are, Tetrapacks of milk on shelves waiting around.

I got married last year and I was 38, and I couldn't be happier.

So do what makes you happy. Be picky. Love yourself, and write, write, write. And as for everyone else, fuck 'em.

Sharline said...

When I said "I couldn't be happier," what I meant of course is that I got married at 38 and I am glad I took my time and didn't do it sooner.

I got to spend most of my thirties learning more about myself, experiencing years of living alone, meeting different people, writing, making new friends and basically having lots of time to myself.

It also meant that by the time Jade and I got married, I felt I could enter this new phase of my life -- marriage, committed relationship, and starting a family -- and not feel like I'm choosing between having a life that's all my own, and giving it all up for other people.

Sure, the amount of my own freedom and time is a bit less now with Jade and will dramatically shift once we have a kid, but since I basically just had 18 years to myself as an adult, I really don't mind.

Well, I am getting way into your blog, and am starting to sound like Dear Fucking Abby.

peace out,
Shar