[ Thursday, March 25, 2004 ]
I've been told I have a following. I always knew I would end up in a cult someday. I just thought it would have something to do with breaking Charlie out of prison, buying dune buggies for the farm, forming a brand new Manson family right here on Big Andy Ridge.
It tickles me though that people are reading. Although now, I'm aware of an audience. I hope that doesn't subconsciously alter the style of this blog, limit my topics. Sometimes I worry that people don't really want to know this much about me; that they'd rather stick with the image of the Beck they already have in their heads. Then again, I reason with myself: If it's too much, you'll just close it down. If it changes your perception of me, maybe that's a good thing. If I think it, feel it, know it why not write it down. The point of living & communicating effectively I think, is being honest when it comes to the important stuff--with one's self, with those around you.
Lots of times I feel isolated. And I wonder to myself, does everyone feel like this? Do we all feel at some point like we don't belong? Billie & I had a conversation about this same topic not long ago. I surprised Billie when I told her that lots of times I feel like a fish out of water, like the dumbest one in the crowd. It's true though. That's how I developed any sort of sense of humor. It's a complete defense mechanism. We love people who can make us laugh. When I'm in a big crowd of people, usually I'm loud & extroverted. That's a complete reversal of the way I feel inside. I'm timid, break easily, ponder conversations a long time. But the timid me learned a long time ago to coach myself. Before I walk into a dance club or someplace where I feel immediately intimidated & wallflower-ish, I tell myself " You own the place." I tell Lisa & Sam. "We own this place." It's a false sense of power. It's overcompensation. It's bullshit. A cover up. But it works like a charm. And confidence is attractive. Even if it's momentary or fake.
I kinda pondered last night what to write about. I didn't have anything just bubbling up like it usually does. Most often when I write, the words have been tumbling around in my head for a while & I just have to sit down & start hitting the keyboard. I was pissed last night & most of the topics that popped up were complaints...why I hate this, why I hate that. Believe me, I love to bitch & groan as much as the next person, but I don't want this journal to just be about the things I hate. This world will always be full of things that piss us off. And the sad fact is, if it weren't, we'd look for something, anything, create it if we had to.
A while back my aunt Marilyn told me she'd read some of the poems on my website. She said she asked my other aunt "Where are we? We had to inspire this girl at some point." The truth is, my aunts never fail to inspire me. They've done more than inspire me; they've taught me.
When I was nine I remember walking in the woods with Marilyn & Scott. We came upon this little dimly lit path. We all stopped & just looked at it. Marilyn turned to me and said "Ok. We can think of this in a romantic 'oh this is so pretty' way or we can think of this in a scary way." Although I'd grown up watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre & remember dad taking us to the drive-in to watch Jason hack people up, I didn't want to be scared shitless. So we walked down the path, picked flowers & enjoyed the narrow streams of light glistening through the trees. That walk was a defining moment for me, although it's taken years to realize this. I think that exact moment when she stopped and said 'we can look at it this way or this way' shaped the way I look at life now. We chose good. We chose optimism. Still today. I choose good. I choose optimism. I choose to think that life is more than what it seems. That even though we feel so isolated or disconnected, a subtle undercurrent flows between us. It says 'yeah, I feel like hell too.' or 'I've been there.' or just 'I understand'. Even when I was limited to a wheel chair then a walker then crutches for six months of my life, I chose optimism. I felt spiritually aware. I had a good time. I laughed. I forgave. I attribute that to Marilyn, who taught me early on that my perception can & will alter my experience.
Marcy. I respect Marcy in a deep way. She's a 'do it all' woman. Brilliant in the way that she reads people, the way she knows the easiest method to calm fears / soothe hurts / tell you to just shut up & take it. Marce is the woman who makes those around her feel strong. Or maybe just safe. And that feeling of safety inspires you to believe that you can do anything. On another level, I realize that Marce was my mother's best friend. Knew her innermost self better than anyone else. Lived out a dream in honor of her. While we were on vacation in Tennessee, we spent one evening telling stories about my mom; Marce recalling their moments together, funny little stories about her temperament, how she could cuss like a sailor when she wanted to, how she was so humble toward the end. That evening for me was just this huge opening up. So many times I've wondered if she ever felt like I feel. Who was she separate from being our mother, dad's wife? Who was she before they met? What was inside her? Is it the same thing that's inside me? The same drive to create, communicate, feel everything in it's entirety? Marce answered a lot of those things for me simply by letting me see my mother through her eyes. It was the closest I've ever felt to understanding who she was. And I'm grateful to Marcie for that. For opening up & letting me see my mother as this vibrant little woman, kind to the core but just as brutal when she needed to be.
Joan. Joan is the one person I can flop down next to & just lay my head on her shoulder. She's comfort to me. She's inside jokes & biscuits & white gravy. All those things that make you comfortable & warm. That's an odd way to describe her but that's who she is. With everyone. Joan is the woman little kids just swarm. Bigger kids too. She understands. She soothes. She laughs at herself. She laughs at us. She communicates with just expressions. I love it when there's just total chaos & you can look at Joan with this expression like "uh, what the ? " and chaotic laughter ensues. The type where you get so tickled you can hardly breathe. Plus, many many of her one liners have made their way into my conversations.
Rene. Rene is the person I want to become as I get older. She's just witty & a spitfire & says what she thinks come hell or high water. That's the ultimate I think.
I've tried to describe them but it would take a lifetime of study & several blogs to describe these women. When I think of them though, most of the women in my family really, I think of the line from My Big Fat Greek Wedding : A man may be the head of the household but the woman is the neck. And she can turn him any way she wants to. It's a rare art these women have perfected--to perfectly blend loving with fierce. I don't think a lot of women get to learn that these days. And certainly they don't grow up with examples of it right in front of them. But I did. And I think that's where a lot of my strength or independence comes from.
About a year & a half ago, I was walking with my aunts & my grandma during a burial. Someone said "Here comes those Miller women." I felt extremely proud to be walking with them. To be seen as 'one of those Miller women'. To know that I am a Miller woman & that that statement was a compliment in a way. To me a Miller is loving, understanding, warm, sassy, won't take your shit, but won't dish it out unless you deserve it. We'll survive. Anything. Cause that's what we do. But not only will we survive, we'll turn it around, make something good out of it. Bitch about it then learn from it & eventually laugh about it later at a family reunion or online.
Who knows, maybe I've been part of a cult for a while now & just didn't realize it. And if not a cult, it is at least a clan. I'm fortunate to be part of it.
Much love.
~ Rebecca 12:03 AM [+]
