Who Am I (Part 1)?

          Who am I? Wow, that’s a loaded question! I’m…well, I’m me, just me. At this point on most days, that’s good enough and having it be good enough is such a relief. I spent a fairly significant portion of my life trying to be someone that other people, namely my significant others, would want. Of course, significant others often have a way of finding other people to be significant to them so I found myself 2 or 3 times adrift without any idea of who to be because my S.O.  “significated” somewhere else.

             No, “significated” is not a word but you get my drift. They “bounced,” “took a powder,” “made like a leaf,” etc. On one memorable occasion, my S.O. “significated” to be with someone else. In his case, with many someone elses of both genders. I have no problem with relationships between people of the same gender; I just think it is a foul to only admit your desire to explore other relationships once you are married. Doesn’t matter to me if you’re part of a gay, lesbian, or straight marriage. If you’ve known for some time that you are not going to be satisfied in life unless you explore your gender identity but you marry someone anyway, then AFTER your marriage decide to explore your gay-ness, lesbian-ness or straight-ness with someone other than your husband/wife; just my opinion but I call that a “foul.” Especially if your wife (in this case, me) discovers your desire to explore your gender identity by discovering you are a member of Bisexual Married Men of America and that the way you explore these parts of yourself is by meeting other bisexual married men in rest areas on the side of interstate highways for quickie sex. I’m just saying it is NOT cool to force your marriage partner into queuing up at the OB/GYN for a round of STD testing because of your little interstate liaisons. I’m just saying…

             Anyway, after that memorable little experience, which did not lead to an immediate divorce, I ended up not knowing who the hell I was or if I had ever known who the hell I was. So, I drifted…aimlessly, thoughtlessly, purposelessly for a long time, for a decade in fact. The divorce occured way b4 the decade was up but I was "at sea" for 10 yrs. I ended up in just one other relationship which eventually led to the loss of almost everything I ever was or thought I could ever be. Needless to say, that pairing did not last either.

             I spent some fairly significant time with my head not screwed on entirely straight. It was not until I was, as they say, "without relationship" for some time that I began to discover the woman I was. Recovering knowledge of my younger self led me to make changes, modifications if you will. Those changes led me to me; to the me I am now. I am who I am but not who I will be. I found that truth, too.

            So, I was born on the Summer Solstice in 1960. You can do the math. I am a 5’7” blue eyed blonde. The birthday makes me a Gemini. I am, if the astrologers are to be believed, a creature of dual nature, fickle, flighty, but fiercely creative especially in the communicative arts. I dunno what to make of the “fickle and flighty” part but I admit to the dual nature. I grew up and still live in the deep South of the United States. How far south, you ask? Think of the deepest South you can imagine. If you hit Louisiana, you’ve gone too far and Florida doesn’t count as the South. Any fool knows that. No real Southerners live in Florida anymore. It has become too cosmopolitan for most of us and has transformed into the place we go on vacations, to lie on the beach and soak up more UV than is good for anyone. I love Florida, don’t get me wrong. I go there at every opportunity but it isn’t really the South to me.

            The South is a place of enigma with a checkered past and an uncertain future—very much like me! Spanish moss is less in evidence in my South than Wisteria. Both kill the trees but Wisteria does it in purple. There is something of mystery in anything so beautiful and fragrant that kills while wearing purple. My ex-S.O. was fond of planting Wisteria on my farm, especially around the sweet gum trees that are in my yard. It wound itself around my trees like some flora-constrictor (ha, pun intended). It grew high into the trees and every spring bloomed in a reckless, beautiful, murderous, purple profusion. I walked by on my way to the barn every day and noticed but didn’t notice.

            Did you ever catch yourself doing that? Noticing but not noticing? Like you put a bottle of shampoo on the counter where it doesn’t belong. It sits there every day adding clutter and chaos to your life but after a few days, even though you see it, you don’t notice it. You might even need to find it and you might look on the counter but still you don’t notice that it’s there. That’s what it was like for me to see the Wisteria. When the ex was here there was no point in noticing. He planted it; he didn’t ask me about it, therefore there was nothing I could do about it one way or the other. He wanted it, he got it. Who was I to object or feel anything different about it? That’s just one example of how I lost myself trying to be in a relationship with him. And while I might call his Bisexual Married Men of America “foul” it was an equal “foul” on my part to disallow and sacrifice parts of myself to being in relationship to him. I was trying to be someone he could want, someone “worthy” of him.

            Well, I’m worthy now. I cut that fucking Wisteria this fall! I don’t have a lot of deep and abiding affection for sweet gum trees. Their seed pods which we call “sweet gum balls” are covered in a million sharp and spiny spikes. They roll underfoot and generally act like marbles rolled to trip up the cop chasing Moe in a Three Stooges cartoon. In short, they’ve knocked me on my ass more times than I care to remember. So why sever the Wisteria? It is beautiful. It smells good. It’s part of every spring. Because it was planted there without any thought given to that planting by me! It wasn’t my choice to put it there, how can I possibly know if I want to watch it kill the tree (however long it takes to do it) unless I spend some time thinking about it? How can I take possession of Elysian unless I spend time thinking about what I do with her? How to take care of her? How best to love her and “husband” her? (Now, my friends, the word “husband” is here used as a verb and it is a somewhat archaic use but nevertheless valid.)

            See what I mean about the South? Florida is easy. Florida is beaches and sun, surf and cocktails, seafood and sightseeing, mini-golf and swimming pools. The deep South is Wisteria and sweet gum trees, loss and discovery, uncertainty and action. There is nothing easy about the South. The deep South is a study in contradiction. It is beautiful and awful and I am its daughter.

Peace and Blessings,

An Uncommon Gemini

Gemini's First Uncommon Post

          So what is an uncommon life anyway and why would I think that I'm living one? Online dictionaries variously define "uncommon" as unusual, rare, not ordinarily encountered, wonderful and remarkable. I think "uncommon" is something both more and less than the all-encompassing notions of the dictionary writers. Uncommon is probably anything any single person does not experience on a regular basis. By that broad and I'll admit somewhat biased definition, it stands to reason that all of us are living uncommon lives. That is what I intend to convey by naming my blog "An Uncomon Life."

           I think life, all life, is a matter of perspective, mine, yours, his, hers, theirs. I don't believe any of us experience events in the same way. My experience of living on a small farm in the deep South won't be the same as yours, even if we both live on small farms in the deep South (which, by the way, I do). The way we experience events in our lives depends very much on the colander of perspective through which we filter them. My filter, my colander of perspective, is created through my experiences and how I perceive them. It won't be the same as yours and that's what makes my life uncommon--my personal perspective of my experience.

          If it all sounds a little philosophical or New Agey or hogwash, well, it can be. It's also a wild, wonderful, strange ride. I don't expect to waltz into the afterlife via the pristine halls of my perfect life because it has been anything but perfect. I expect instead to slide feet first into my grave with my clothes full of mud, my hair smelling of incense, and my lipstick smeared screaming, "What a fucking awesome ride!" I know that's a pretty popular saying right now, maybe even a meme, but in my case it fits. Plus I think that's what the Divine Creator wants of us; to live, to truly live, an uncommon life. Uncommon lives are notoriously messy.

          This blog won't be specifically spiritual but it will contain elements of spirituality. It will not contain elements of organized religion because that is not a component of my uncommon life. What else will be in here? Well, all the things that I love and that make my life unusual. My thoughts about my experiences, stories about my loved ones including my grown son, my daughter-of-the-heart, my mom and dad, my brother and his family, my dog, my cats, my ferrets, my farm (which, by the way, is called Elysian) and certain other challenges, worries, efforts both successful and failed, just the stuff of my unusual life.

          A more specific example would be the following: I like to cook...now. I'll write about how it came to be that I went from hating and resenting cooking to loving the whole process. I incorporate magick into the experience, I'll write about how that came to be. I love my pets. I'll write about how they sustain me and how I moved away from relationships with other humans and into closer experiences with non-humans. Yes, I said, non-humans and that doesn't only mean pets. I adore my son. He's grown (yep, that means I'm not a spring chicken--part of having an uncommon life is surviving it! LOL) and has a wicked, very, very wicked, sense of humor. Usually, I'm the butt of the wicked part. I love my DOTH (daugter-of-the-heart). I'll write about how I came to mother her and how she saved my life. I love my extended family. I don't always understand them but that's OK, they often don't understand me. I'll write about them here, too. I'm also a writer of fiction. I write horror, mostly. I've had a few short stories published and while I'd really like to write a book, I'm not sure I've got what it takes to go the distance. I plan to share stories here from time to time. These stories will be lies, fiction, entertainment IOW. I'll clearly let my readers (if I have any) know up front if the story is fact, fiction, or "faction," which is, of course, a blend of the first 2. I also plan to explore why I may or may not have a book to write.

          Since my life is uncommon, you can expect screw-ups. I plan to screw-up royally with this blog. I'm not here to present myself or my life as perfect. If you want perfection you can read the blogs of lots of incredibly organized, married women who extreme coupon while juggling 4 kids under 5 years of age and have husbands who are either soldiers or are the sole bread winners. They feed a family of 6 for less than $20/week. I can't do that crap! I don't even really want to--I tried it for a little while. OMG, that was an exhausting 48 hours! I hated myself and my son, pets, and extended family hated me, too! I learned a lesson--don't try to live like other people. That's like trying to teach a pig to sing-it's a waste of your time & it annoys the pig. I actually tried the married thing for a lot longer than 48 hours; now that was uncommon. I'll write about that here, too.

          I'll write about all these lessons. Even when they make me look stupid; especially when they make me look stupid. Stupidity is a facet of an uncommon life. At least, so far, stupidity has been an important part of my uncommon life.

          Lastly, this is an adult themed blog. It's not my job to protect your children on the internet nor is it my job to write around your personal tender spots regarding language or experience. What most people call "profanity" will be here occasionally...when I feel like adding it. Having said that I will say that this is NOT a pornographic or explicit blog. You won't find photos of my old naked ass here nor of the luscious naked asses of anyone else! You won't find images of blood or carnage either although I will have things to say about both sex and violence. Man, I hate having to add the lawyer crap to my own blog but that's the way it is! So, police yourselves, you've been warned. If you think you have what it takes to experience a little of my odd and wonderful life, read on. Otherwise, fuck off, go to a tamer part of the internet!

          So, next time I plan to reveal a little more about me. Who is Gemini? Why should you care and why should you read about my rare life? I warn you though, I'm a private person so don't expect a ton of identifying details. I don't have a Facebook page (a fact my niece and my brother lament each time we see each other), I don't tweet, I don't choose to reveal myself in a way that might bring negative attention to me or that might embarrass or cause my son pain, now or in the future. I think it's a dumb idea to share all your vacation photos with "le monde." After all, haters are gonna hate and sometimes they hate in remarkably malicious ways. Think it can't happen to you? Keep on thinking that, maybe you're right and maybe you're wrong. I just refuse to bet my uncommon life or my uncommon future on it! Still, there'll be enough here to interest anyone who chooses to read this unconventional blog. I'll tell you how old I really am (my mother would squirm at that; she never tells her age so don't expect me to!). I'll share photos and comments and ideas. I'll show you Elysian; she's very beautiful. I'll show you photos, hopefully entertaining ones, of my pets and my life. I'll tell you a little bit more about why you should care...next time. I plan to blog several times per week so keep checking back because uncommon lives don't occur on a regular schedule and "next time" might just mean later tonight!

         

Peace and Blessings,
An Uncommon Gemini