Archive | February, 2014

Hamlet was My Lover

19 Feb

I have a confession to make.

I don’t read. I know a good writer reads, but I just don’t think I have the attention span for it: I get distracted by other people’s conversations in the coffee shop or I start thinking about what my next blog post should be about.

I have another confession to make.

In high school and university I never completed an assigned book. I thank my stellar inductive skills for helping me piece together information from what I read, what I overheard classmates say, and what the instructor’s blatantly told us in class. This allowed me to B.S. my way through class discussions and write amazing papers on the topics. And I got As. Commence the tomato throwing and booing.

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Logic.

I guess I’m the single woman in the world of books who doesn’t know what she is looking for, sets her expectations too high, is afraid of being of being hurt at the end, or is just afraid of commitment. Probably all of the above.

The truth is, I was hurt, very badly. I fell in love with a man named Hamlet, and although we didn’t share the same century, our bond was deep and true. We didn’t speak the same language, but I understood him. And like all true heartbreaking stories, he didn’t even know I existed.

For those of you who don’t know, Hamlet by William Shakespeare is a tragic play about a prince, Hamlet, whose father is killed. The ghost of Hamlet’s father haunts him and demands that he seek revenge and murder his uncle (who is now married to Hamlet’s mother, gross, I know) who was responsible for his death. But here’s the kicker: we don’t know if Hamlet is insane or not. Is he so devastated by the circumstances of his father’s death that he’s making up ghosts? Or is he really that special that a ghost would reach out to him to for vengeance? Is Hamlet bat-shit crazy or a actually the hero of this story?

Now, you’re probably not seeing the appeal of Hamlet, so let me establish some context. When I ‘read’ Hamlet, I was 16 or 17. I was at a point in my life where I thought I was so important and awesome, yet at the same time I was kind of a loser. It was like a weird metaphysical paradox I was living in (this is distinctive from the adult version of myself where I am actually fully aware that I’m not that important).

Plus, Hamlet had no idea what was going on in his life and was completely incapable of following through with what he told himself he would do: kill his uncle-father. In other words, Hamlet was a hot-mess who was also a big-time procrastinator.

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That should have been me.

So I could see myself in Hamlet. And lord’a mercy, did I love him for that.

Hamlet’s inner struggles and inability to act on things that consumed his thoughts mirrored mine, and still do to this day.

Write your essay!

Go to yoga!

Book a flight to France!

Move out!

Get your life together!

Have you ever wanted something so badly but just couldn’t for the life of you get off your ass and do it? Not that you were lazy, but because you over analyzed and thought the damn thing to death? Hamlet is the poster boy for that!

When I first got into the one-sided relationship with Hamlet, I knew it was a tragedy and I knew how it would end (SPOILER ALERT! He dies). But still, he was one of the first things I ever committed to. We would have been great together. We could have been all deep and contemplative about life. We could have been self-destructive together.  He would have made me feel less shitty about not filing my taxes and getting my eyebrows done. We could have made excuses for each other. We could have had beautiful, ill-raised and insecure children.

In all seriousness, Hamlet is one of the best works of art that I almost-read. If there’s anything you can take from Shakespeare’s classic, it’s how not to live your life. There’s only so long you can pretend you’re asleep or hide out in Starbucks. You need to go out there and get what you want!

So don’t be Hamlet. Don’t live and die tragically.

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It’s just a body

16 Feb

It’s just a body

Holds your guts and soul together
Yes, take care of it, feed it, take it for a walk, hydrate it,

Decorate it, cover it, expose it but don’t let it take you hostage.

Don’t be its prisoner.

It has its own spirit and if its spirit has no thigh-gap, its spirit has no thigh gap.

Let it do what it’s meant to do, and let the thighs meet each other. Let them say hi.

The worst thing you can do is hate it and want to tear it apart from you, tear away from your skin

and separate.

Your body has been through things. Mitosis. Childbirth maybe. Happiness, losses, gains, pains. Bodies change. You don’t have the same mind you had at 16 and you don’t have the same body at 16. Let it go, it’s not there anymore.

It’s resilient but it doesn’t forget, there’s only so much you can erase. It’s just a part of the whole, not the whole. Just be at peace with it, work with it, not against it. But understand that it won’t always listen because sometimes it just knows better.

Just be.