Rambling On Love

Seems like I have a lot more to say here than I thought, after all I'm the quintessential multifaceted contradiction to every rule. 

In a strange way all that's on my mind recently is love, I just don't acknowledge it in my normal day to day monologues/dialogues on social media, but it's definitely on my mind.

Have you ever wondered if the mold was not broken after that first model was made? Meaning somewhere out there is a second or third or even more copy of the original model? 

I hope to god so. 

Hell, he might even be better than the first edition. 

If I ever meet this guy ... there goes my virginity again.

Taller, with tattoos, and finally mine ... 

That would solve quite a lot of my issues with monogamy. 

Face it, I suck at being monogamous, and I refuse to lie about it to anyone interested in being involved with me, but it all stemmed from some interesting shit a few corners in the road called life before I became conscious.

I'm not saying I'm completely closed off to the idea of being singly involved with a man, I'm just saying, given what I'm presented with for men, that just won't work.
Especially since I know exactly what I want in a man, and where to find it. Which is normally not in any of the eager victims who run forward into my Enchanted Forest of Thorns and Wolves ... 

Maybe, a change of pace will change my mind.

The Origin Of Arte - The Unknown Years -

Being 18 in a foreign country was exhilarating, I was running around, going to raves, out on my own time, irresponsible (the one time you forget to buy a new bus pass the damn marshals get on the train, and you get spot checked, get your first fucking fine... oh joy!) 

Getting put out of your aunt's apartment becaaaaaause you were too bajan for her tastes, too ''powful', (honestly, I was a disrespectful little shit and totally oblivious about it), being taken in by her pure swiss ex husband, and discovering that you pass out after running from freezing cold into boiling shower. 

- there was a moment of utter stupidity between there when I slept in an underground train station. ABSOLUTE AND COMPLETE STUPIDITY- 

This is where I began to question what I thought I knew and who I thought I was, my aunt's younger friends she had tried hooking me up with decided they didn't like me because I wasn't outgoing enough, I kinda laid back, and just let them decide what we were gonna do whenever we went out. Somehow that made me into the type of person who only "uses people" ... Alrighty then. 

Anyway, the experience of Europe stayed with me, Europe was the first place I saw a guy strolling along in an italian suit, one half  of his head blue, the other half red, and stroll right on into the corporate office of some swiss bank or the other, while my jaw swung off. 

Sex in switzerland wasn't bad ... It was pretty sensual actually, there somehow were always candles, I mean seriously, there were ALWAYS candles! Of course, I was also a single black female, in no way attracted to the single black males in my immediate social circles, I'm sorry, I'm an islander, I'm also socially inappropriate in the most ridiculous ways, so my longing for what I had grown accustomed to sexually (let's not focus on the fact that at 18 I was already accustomed to sex, enough to know what I liked, or didn't like, even though I had never had a true-blue orgasm, that would come later) led me to hunt my satisfaction in some strange circles, but I could never get my damn high or anywhere near it.

By time I returned to Barbados I was thinking in german, and speaking such, it sounded beautiful to my mind, or rather anything but bajan sounded beautiful. 

I came back home, swearing up and down that I was a grown woman and I had made it in Switzerland by myself (yes I conveniently forgot that my uncle saved my ass, heck I conveniently forgot quite a lot about Switzerland, like the fact that my green lil ass ran out of money, and had to walk from LangStrasse, Zurich To Zumikon, at 2 am because I was too proud to call anyone to come pick me up ... That's from Belleplaine, to fucking Speightstown, UPHILL, once again out of sheer teenaged stupidity)

Obviously, my mother and I could not do, so I moved out.

What had happened, right, was I came home accustomed to going on dates and not having to ask permission, and she STILL my mother, wasn't having that, I wanted to go football with a guy I had met, and she was vehemently against my doing that, sooooo, I moved out and moved in with that guy. 

Frankly, the stupidest thing I ever did. That was when my mother and I fell so badly apart that there was no way we could be back together, heck, my mother couldn't even hug me anymore, we haven't had non-confrontational physical contact (aside from her holding my hand during labour) since I was 14, if you have girl children, don't let the lil shits rule themselves until they're working at least 2 years, no matter what. 

Most of what happens after that can be found on my facebook and I don't feel like talking about it. 

This is the introduction to who I am, and more importantly, why I am. 

Today I'm in a strange emotional mood, I feel hurt, inadequate and sentimental, but not bad, just, strangely sentimental.   

The Origins Of Arte

You know ironically the hardest thing about growing up for me? 

It was recognising, I would never be "that girl" ...

Recognising and accepting that there is nothing remarkable about me aside from the fact that I'm a smart ass, who can occasionally wield a pen or pencil with surgical precision and renaissance-like finesse, I was utterly uninteresting. 

So, I got blue hair. It seemed like a brilliant idea, no one can forget you if you have blue hair right? I mean, heck, I'm the girl who got her teeth knocked out, never was and never would be pretty, skin was ruined and NO ONE would love me. Blue hair was definitely a step up. 

Being black didn't help a bit, because in the West Indies, if you're not perfect, and you're black, ya better be able to sing, or master quantum fucking physics, because NO ONE will take you seriously otherwise. 

So I got blue hair. 

Funny enough, people did pay me attention after that, well aside from telling me how much a smart ass I was, people began to check enough to like or dislike me, not just over look me. 

How can people overlook me you wonder? 

I'm six feet tall, and not exactly quiet, in any way, my personality is loud, in that bubbly, brawling kind of way, when I'm quiet, it's very uncomfortable to people accustomed to me, yet, people overlooked me. I was too ... not enough. 

I had fleeting interests in music, but i can't sing for shit, and failed my music exam at age 13, after playing musical instruments since I was 4 years old believe it or not, I panicked in the exam, that was the end of that.

I draw, well more like I hold a pencil and something fascinating happens when I breathe, because half the time, I have no idea where that came from, or where it was going. To focus on it takes every ounce of energy within me, so illustrating portraits and landscapes in front of me, while I can do it, that is a labor of excruciating consequence to myself physically. 

However, drawing really isn't that special, drawings don't stay with your mind, you don't feel sad and remember a drawing, you don't feel angry and remember a drawing, but you feel these emotions and remember a song. 

For that kind of emotional attention from people I began writing, (don't ask, I was writing complex poetry almost as long as I was drawing, I knew what Horatian Odes were, I knew what Irregular Odes were, fuck it, I knew what the hell a Triolet was at age 10 but I abhor order, so I never stuck to the rules of poetry), yet, writing was not satisfying that monster within me. 

So... I got blue hair.