Monday, March 15, 2010

Different Mes

It never ceases to amaze me how pain and loneliness seem to bring out the greatest in artistic effort.

Some of the best songs were written through tears. Comedians draw upon past pain to make us laugh. And the anguish of a heart inspire great poetry and prose.

Not always, of course. Some of the funniest comedians admit to happy childhoods.

I guess I can't speak to that.

I do know my best work - the writing I've done which I enjoy - stems from great sadness and loss. Rejection. That feeling - knowledge - that I never fit in.

At times it seems like a friend. You know? But I know it's warped me. Why else do I not know who and what I am?  It's why my "about" section uses the word genderqueer. To be honest, I don't even know that THAT means. But I know what I wish.

I wish I could put on and take off what I am like clothing. Some days I could be physically strong. Some days I would be petite. Some days I would be a leader. Other days I would follow. Some days I would be beautiful beyond words. Other days I would be down and dirty, actually getting something done.

But whatever I wore, this would be true: I would be me. And I would have value.