I’m usually like Rory Gilmore when it comes to list making but tell me it’s time to make one and my mind gets all foggy. I’ve decided to make a list about things I like but have trouble admitting openly
I really enjoy art. My family knows this but what they don’t know is how far that love extends. I could paint and write all day but it wouldn’t compare to how long I could watch ballet or watch a live play or listen to live orchestra. I’ve always appreciated the natural flow of true art. There’s work and effort behind it but once it’s all together it’s practically seamless and seems so natural like it had waited to exist and be, this whole time. I chose stupidly to stay uninformed on these topics because in my family, where I come from…all that stuff is for uppity folks with money. The best performances by hand and/or action aren’t always in auditoriums decorated with marble and gold.
I’m a firm believer in love and romance. I love my husband greatly but I know there is more to experience. I don’t admit to anyone how much of a romantic I am. What’s funny is anytime anyone has ever attempted romantic sessions with me, I got grossed out. It feels like they try too hard, like maybe it’s forced. I find it pathetic and am instantly turned off by their actions. I even had to tell Kasper when we started dating to back up, he was too clingy. But in my head there’s so much romance it’s sickening. Rose petals everywhere; candles lit in all the right corners. If I were to walk into a room like that I’d probably laugh and not take it seriously. Maybe I’m too cynical or skeptical or something?
♦ Bright colors
It’s not so much of a secret now but go back 10 years and think of me in a pink shirt and you might scrunch up your nose and wonder when you entered the Twilight Zone. It’s not that I didn’t like the color pink; I was embarrassed by the color. All colors that didn’t represent the earth or sky were embarrassing. It wasn’t intentional to be a brown/dark greens, grey/dark blues kind of girl, it just kind of happened. That’s a lie. I thought it was what I was supposed to do because of the “my step dad loved me the wrong way” thing. I felt dark and gloomy inside so I guess I did project that naturally which is probably why anything soft or bright embarrassed me. Oh my, I think I just made a self-discovery. Isn’t this exciting?! When I got my first decent job I was 23 and for some reason wanted this light pink blouse. Kasper did the gruff, manly, “that’s not the girl I fell in love with” thing and I never got the shirt even though I really wanted it. A month later I’d see a pink line on a white stick and realize as well as partially accept my new openness to the rest of the color wheel. I now wear coral and yellows with my grays and khaki and such but fuchsia is my favorite (I’m actually wearing a fuchsia tee with black stripes and gray cargo capris). I tell Kasper lies like “it was the only color in my size for that same sale.” He probably caught on by now but still let’s me play this game .
♦ Country music
As an eternal music lover, I am not known for any high level of affinity for country music. I grew up in New England where my sister found country music while I still blared Tupac from my little three-disc mini stereo (so high-tech back then). That’s what I grew up with, rap and R&B. And then we moved from the “inner city” of our super small town to this farming community where the radio frequencies limited us to cd’s, mixtapes from friends and good old country music. I liked what she listened to but my prepubescent diligence to stay relevant and “cool” did not allow me to indulge in it out of her presence. She found a bluegrass station once and we square danced in my bedroom with the one window and brown trim walls. A memory to treasure And then we moved to the great state of Texas where I now live and am “forced” to “endure” the random exposure to country music. It’s not as popular as some might think it would be down here but it is everywhere. I feel most comfortable among the rock crowds but I can get down with some country especially the stuff my dad listened to when he was floating around pretending he was normal. I tell people now that
I only like live country music, just like me Tejano, thank you
Well, that may be true but it’s also a lie. Country music, like Tejano, is better to me live; but country, unlike most Tejano, I can listen to privately and enjoy just as much.
I grew up in a small urban city/town…village. It was really small. And I wanted to grow up and move to a big city and be a city person with a city life and a city mind. Then we moved to Texas where I finished my raising (does that read as country as it sounds in my head?) in an even bigger city. It sucks…man does it suck. Parks aren’t for enjoying; they’re like oxygen pockets you can’t play inside of….needles everywhere, broken glass and questionable people. Everything is surrounded by parking lots, buildings and vehicles. Where I live, you have to drive a good 45 minutes to see a “wild” tree among other “wild” trees and really, it’s mostly tall bramble because this is Texas, after all. I do love Texas, however. The country around here is amazing. Sometimes it’s flat and dry and sometimes it’s green and dense. There’s long stretches of untamed beach and miles of freshly farmed lands. Texas is like an entire country in one place…all countries are…it’s big and topographically diverse is what I’m saying. But moving here more than 16 years ago has brought me a great sense of appreciation for the land I grew up around. I never realized how much time I spent among trees until I moved where there are so few. I never knew how much I loved to play in fresh-cut grass, tall grass and fields of grass until I moved to a place where grass is green for a few short months of the year before it dies and/or has these really scary big red ants that literally twist into your flesh as they bite you. I really enjoy nature but I don’t talk about it too much to Kasper because we come from different backgrounds and he doesn’t understand. It’s not something I could talk about with the same level of excitement as I feel when I discuss the colors, the effects of the fresh oxygen and sunlight and the sounds and fragrances of earthly decay and rebirth that all make up “wild” nature. <—Look; I even have to quote wild because in the city nature isn’t wild, it’s tamed and restricted. I guess this last one is less of a confession than it is an explanation to my silence