Thursday, March 12, 2009

6-word autobiographies

I am the trombonist with boobs.

Just don't be an asshole, okay?

Haven't lost sight, just lost focus.

Grew up fast, got happy late.

Stopped being nice, started getting happy.

Stop pleasing others, focus on yourself.

After self reflection comes progressive action.

Don't kiss ass, just kick it.

Can't find my place, still looking.

Always the advisor, never the advisee.

Get your own! Want to share?

Check left, check right, then run.

I think I think too much.

What am I really running from?

Go away! No wait, come back.


If you deserve respect, I'll give it.
Not everyone deserves one's utmost attention.
Snorting pixie stix-high school.
Snorting lucas in middle school.
Boys evolved from lucas to pixie stix up their nose.


one word, no

The word was a stick in my mouth even as I thought to say it. After all, this was not the choice time to renege my consent (though I'd never given it explicitly). The better time would have been when she kissed me. Better yet, when she asked me out.
Who was I fooling anyway? Anyone? I wasn't even close to concealing the truth, and it made no sense to me.
Me, an out trans who couldn't accept his homosexuality. Ha, what a laugh.
But I couldn't admit that. Liking boys would somehow make me less of one.
So I agreed to go out with her. If I was with a girl, if I slept with her, somehow I thought all my problems would go away.
Yet as I laid on her bed, half-naked and having my pants quickly pealed off of me, I thought NO! I wanted to tell her that, scream it, get her to STOP TOUCHING ME because it didn't feel right.
But I saw how in love she was. Not in lust or anything but love and hope. So I sealed my mouth and the pitiful 'no' inside me. Conceded my defeat. Let that word, No, hang over my head, begging to be let loose so it could cry that I'd been wronged even when it was myself I was swimming against.


one word, no

Sometimes even no words can carry farther than the longest story. Sitting with the friend in her room, the parents come home. She asks "Is she..." The parents look up with reddened eyes, a slight shake of the head, a broken, mumbled "no," and more is said in that silence. She doesn't need or want an explanation--too many words. Turning to me. "Sorry" is cried over her shoulder, she flies up the stairs and I am left alone. I walk outside, call my ride, and leave.
"Is she... okay?" he asks.
"Do you want to--"
So much power concealed in a two letter word, so much communicated. A tragic story, only turned tragic with that head shake, with that word. No.


one word, mashuq

Mashuq. It means sweetheart in sanscrit. So soft, that sound, that meaning. I found it in a poem about love. To everyone, to everything. To every moment and every softness one invocation, one soft nurturing word. One emotion - sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart. To the trees outside my window~mashuq. To the rock on the ledge~mashuq. To your foot, my foot. Mashuq. To the pitcher full of water. To the last dying breath of a snail. Mashuq. You are all my loves. Sweet and free and pure. I love you. You are all perfect. Transcend duality, transcend hate, transcend right, transcend wrong, transcend perfection, objection, salvation. Mashuq. Sweetheart. To me this word was the representation of love, the manifestation of acceptance, tolerance, joy. It takes strength, it takes courage to open your heart so wide, to use your third eye and the nadi of truth. But that, to me, was what it was, it was mashuq, it was truth.


one word, stop

It was in 5th grade. I was on the porch eating lunch and Ryan was teasing me. Ignoring him was useless. By now his was the only voice I could hear. I ran in the bathroom with tears running down my face. Jeanette knocked and let herself in while Amber yelled at him Stop! I'm not really friends with them anymore but I will never forget that they stood up for me.



No mom, I'm not you
No mom, I'm not popular
No mom, I'm not skinny
No mom, I don't have straight A's
No mom, I don't like the same food as you
No mom, I'm not perfect... and neither are you

Yes mom, I'm a spaz
Yes mom, I'm the one in the t-bone section with boobs
Yes mom, I like drawing
Yes mom, I'm a slacker
Yes mom, I'm not as smart as you think
Yes mom, I'm overweight
Yes mom, you drive me nuts
Yes mom, I love you
Yes mom, I have your eyes
Yes mom, I have your hot-headed nature
Yes mom, I have your humor
Yes mom, I have a great personality... just like you