Communication Blackout

Lately I have been wrapped up in my own weird drama, placing importance on my day-to-day emotional upheavals. I lose perspective of what is real and what I have misplaced, focusing on my own small piece of a much larger picture. I lost my Queen Bee wallet on Solstice. It was perfect, a beautiful extension of my own self. And I feel such regret for letting myself become so completely emotionally attached to an object. It was a part of me and who I identify as, thus the loss was something I could hardly bear. There were inconsolable tears, and I'm ashamed to admit a bit of grieving. Grieving? This makes sense for a Queen Bee Creations. They're special in the most perfect way. Mine was green with two colors of blue leaves and stitching that carried the eye along an invisible breeze. Like I said: perfect. How will I go on? How will I be able to even think of finding a replacement?

And all the while a very real and very dangerous political liberation is (re)interpreting itself. The young and old joining their voices in the street despite the threat of death, more of a promise really.

Who is documenting this, who will remember what they did if their struggle against a government plagued by tyranny is not recorded for all to see?

Men and women die in the street as cowards with guns fight to keep a hold on the power they have and the position of privilege so easily enjoyed. In this moment there is power in the presence of the crowds in the streets, or the bazaar, and the quiet anger that is peace. There is a shift occurring and a demand for a vote that was stolen while the whole world was watching. And in this moment there is a clear line of who is right and who is wrong. We know which side to stand for and we know what has to be fought for.

Who is documenting this? Iran's government is doing everything possible to shut down the media, every outlet losing access to those of us watching from the outside. Friends waiting for an email to get through while the Internet is up, a phone call closely monitored, and the social networking sites that connect us all serving as a lifeline. This is the moment that will define the movement and carry it forward.

And then what happens?

My college studies come back to me and haunt the images and stories coming through, what will happen to those that live and triumph in the end? History is cyclical and will always come back around. Is this just the beginning of another thirty years?

Why worry about that though, we are living in the moment of change and experiencing a new era? Perhaps the cycle of oppressor/oppressed will end tonight as the day ends and a new one begins. Why fight for anything if it all just ends up the same?

I'll try to keep things in perspective while finding a new wallet, it won't be perfect and I won't mind.

Eastern Promises

Days ago I saw the hope of change exchanged through photographs as a country prepared for an election that could unseat a President that had changed so much for women in particular. A man taking a stand for morality, beating back the many voices wishing for a better future for our daughters and fellow sisters.

The election was thought to be held in the votes of the young and women; women looking for a government that represents all - not just their sexuality and virtue. It was hope for a future without laws against simply being female. As the votes came in and the winner elected, "fraud" was whispered through lips too scared to fully realize the election had been stolen straight from their very hands. Fingertips trembled and thus formed a fist. Fingers once inked with their vote the day before now thrust into the air to symbolize peace and victory, into the streets to demand what is wrong to be right.

Anger and distrust no exchanged through the digital age, the revolution will be twittered? Real-time crimes sent around the world in moments, documented be those experiencing the all-too realness of an uprising. Violence and blood spilling into the streets as voices and signs rise up to let the government know this will not let up.

And the photos you see now are the women holding signs demanding their vote count. The young speaking out and defying the men with guns so that no matter the outcome they can say it was not without a fight. No matter what the truth is there in a face painted with make-up and fingernails brightly colored, hair flowing loosely from a headscarf - defiant acts to show they will not be held back.

There's violence and death and government cover-up. Death? To die for demanding the truth instead of a lie? To be sent to a hospital with blood running in the streets and the government stepping in to make it clear this is not happening seems to make the fight for justice so much more clear. These scenes call to mind a time twenty years in the past when students stood up to tanks and guns, only to be brought down in a moment of bloody violence. A parallel drawn between the two and the whole world is standing waiting to see what will come of this defiant act. Hope for justice to side with those wronged and the guilty punished.

But is this a dream made by a somewhat idealistic young woman half-way around the globe? A girl who has shouted in the street and shut down the WTO, asking for equality and the end of an illegal war. I am privileged enough to feel safe to cry out against atrocities committed, though the last eight years were a time somewhat stifled and slightly violent. In general I would never fear for my life in a protest against a stolen election, no matter how much my heart may be breaking I know the police there to keep the peace would never shatter that to fire into a crowd peacefully gathered to show in numbers an unwillingness to sit idly by.

What does makes a successful revolution? Perhaps we shall finally see. A simple vote has turned into so much more, more danger and more at stake than ever before. It is still up to the young and especially the women of a country far away, yet close enough to see history made as it is happening. It's still up to them to document their own experiences so that no matter how this pans out the whole world will know how and why.

The whole world is watching.

Sounding Something Like Settling

A relationship? Friends for sure, a closeness that isn't a big deal and yet is all at once. Importance placed on the individual and careful progression toward fulfillment without emotional attachment. We're both ready to end it all if ever it gets to be too much.

So am I selfish to begin a relationship that will ultimately lead nowhere but my own self discovery, testing who I am and will become? Or it could very well be the best idea ever, an opportunity to see what it means to be free and enlightened. The truest act of feminism?

As long as no one gets hurt.

There is still time devoted to re-establishing the openness and understanding that the woman he is devoted to knows all that we do. He claims not to go into details and that she knows and there is an understanding regardless of her knowing everything that goes on between him and his activities outside of their relationships. I still need to be assured of her feelings and hear him repeat that I will be spared of the other side of things. Only after these uneasy feelings are soothed can I relax enough and fall into a moment of time standing alone in itself.

A selfish act only possible because we live in a society that places worth in the individual, the act of investing in one's own person seen as a generous and required ritual. And it is safe and secure knowing that the two of us exist in this moment for one another, helping each other achieve a certain desire and explore something more intimate.

I am settling into a sort of relationship, something built on trust and openness with a person I respect and enjoy spending time with. Feeling myself settle into a comfortable place, knowing I am respected and valued within a partnership not always approved of. However, I am happy in the place I find myself and interested in knowing a bit more. It is an experience and once I'm through with it I'll be able to walk away without strings attached. Or so I hope.

I find myself setting into something that I had not looked for; something that I was never searching for, but it found me nonetheless. I can see the value of this experience and hope to be able to get as much out of this time as possible. I have a friend to help me through the experience and lead me to the other side of understanding what possibilities lie ahead.

More than anything I am interested in finding who I become once I am done.

Parklife

The park has been wonderful. I've taken bike rides over to one that sits on the lake with a view of downtown and sailboats. It is a great spot to picnic and fly kites. This past week a lot of families and group of friends would gather and enjoy the warm evenings and each other's company. I would sit and watch, resting a bit before my ride home up a rather big hill. This hill was also made a bit bigger by the warmer weather.

These days were great for people watching. Everyone playing and laughing with dogs and babies. There were the bikers and strollers and girls laying out in the last of the sun for the day. We were all excited to finally emerge from the damp of winter, but this seemed more of a violent shove straight into late summer. Although, the heat has cooled a bit and the sky is more overcast as is the usual for this time of year. We had a great warm weather week.

One of the more happy moments while sitting on the grassy hill in the middle of the park was watching a young woman approach a man and begin talking about books. It sort of looked like they might know each other, but then there were the introductions. And it was clear that these were two strangers. It was nice seeing people connecting and disproving the coldness of the city, a coldness that I feel is more true a descriptive for this city than the rain. I was routing for them and hoped theirs would be a happy friendship. I couldn't help but think of my failed attempt at connecting with a fellow comrade, a true comrade it turned out. That was just one failure though, made even worse by the deepness of our connection in such a short period of time. Maybe the spring will bring more opportunities and a greater sense of community, maybe I witnessed the beginning right there in the park. At the very least it was an inspiration.

I've taken walks to a nearer park as well, another opportunity to escape the heat and enjoy the air. I arrived later in the evening and sat to read until it got too dark. As I was walking into the park the sun was beginning to set and dark clouds were moving in. It had be a very hot day, breaking records and turning sort of stormy. As I sat reading two men sat next to me, one asking if it was okay if they smoked up. I said it was fine and he promised to blow it away from me, this promise was made while the wind was picking up. But whatevs.

As the guys were getting high it was clear that they didn't know what was going on; they were inept at loading the pipe, they didn't understand the complexities of love, and life in general was still a bit of a mystery. Some of the philosophical discourse came from their drug induced state of mind, but you could also hear an idealism that often fades with life experience. There was a newness in their tone of voice, but more importantly a lack of cynicism. It was beautiful. I often reminded myself to hold my tongue while the two discussed polyamory and the inevitable monogamous marriage. I had thought they were gay, but maybe they were straight since all conversations referred to girls? I wanted to know what they would have thought of my current situation, the experiences I've had with every guy either sort of cheating on his girlfriend or about to get back together with her. One guy was trying to convince the other of the eventuality of marriage and commitment to one partner, the other was reluctant to accept his truth and tried to rationalize it to himself as his friend kept on. I could only think of one person and his relationship with a woman that he would eventually settle down with and the other partners they would both keep as part of their committed relationship.

At that point a crazy wind storm blew through the park, picking up dust and darkening the sky. It was an omen and I took it as a sign for me to head home. I went in search of shelter and found my home safe and quiet, the windows wide open to let in the forceful breeze to clear the stuffy air and cool it off a bit before I headed to bed. I was glad to have been out in the evening to enjoy a piece of my book and some great people watching in my neighborhood. It was nice to all be connected for a bit.