The Blackness inside Beauty

This piece was inspired by a photo of Elizabeth “Beth” Short, better known as The Black Dahlia.

Beauty by definition is something that has the combination of qualities that pleases the intellect or moral sense, but I believe that it has many sides to it. Beauty can also have the combination of qualities that ignites and stirs things in someone that drives them to dislike or hate such a thing. When did beauty ONLY appeal to the eye? When did that appeal strike a chord that was something other than good? The idea that beauty is a feeling is discredited by those whose aesthetic experience testifies that beauty is an objective; an object; something to be owned.

By nature, there are the types of people who destroy beauty when they find it. These people are petty and jealous, as they envy what they lack, and because they don’t know how to acquire something, they try to destroy anyone who has it. Beauty is one of those things they hate most in others. Unable to comprehend how someone can destroy an image of beauty whether it’s in feeling or objectiveness, beauty is something supposed to be admired and protected, yet it is still the one thing that’s been misunderstood.

There have been occurrences where because of one’s own possession of beauty it has caused them harm or even death. Wallace Stevens immortalizes this as he writes, “Death is the Mother of Beauty; hence from Her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires”. What exactly does this mean? Does one must die because beauty is their dream or desire? Or is it at the hand of someone else, which dreams and desires the possession of someone else’s beauty?

True or false; at the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman? Not a question to really be answered, more or less explored. How can anything inhuman have a heart or even comprehend beauty? It’s come to be known that beauty brings out the monster that is truly hidden beneath it, which makes beauty in itself blemished and imperfect. Why call it beauty? How does it appeal now?

For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror which we are barely able to endure, and it amazes us so, because it’s sincerely disdains to destroy us… Is this your terror? Your beauty is your own killer? Does this still appeal to amazes us all so?

Expression

John Jakes captures the way I see myself thru words, and inevitably the way that I live thru words, but just this little piece;


“Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish”.

No matter what it is, or what has happened, this is where I come to. I write. The one place that I do not hold back, and just let everything go. Some may not understand my style of writing, and may not understand in a whole what each piece is about, but if you can just take away the written word and read it better with open eyes, mind and heart, you will truly begin to understand.

I don’t try to fit to someone else’s idea of how things should be written or expressed. Why should anyone? Yet, I see this happen every day. If there is ever one thing that gives someone insight to who you are, let it be the one thing that you took the time to write, think about and create. It is something that you have crafted, be proud to express yourself and believe in what you write. If it came from the heart, let it show. If it came from a place with hurt, let it hurt! If it came from a place covered in grace, share it. Put your heart into it, the beginning pieces are there, just pull them together and make yourself heard.

Do not be afraid to take a stand and let yourself be known by the way you write and what you write about.

I know that without a doubt I am going to be what I set out to be, and write about whatever comes to me, at the time that it does. It upsets me knowing that people have to hide behind conformity when it comes to self expression. That in itself goes way beyond just writing, it’s the outward expression of who we are.

I am not sure where this really came from. Its started out as something different, and I am again not sure how it evolved into this. I guess this is just what I feel when I write and take the time to look around and think about how and what I write.

Parenthood - Hard Decisions

Looking back as far as four years ago now, I have questioned almost every single decision that I made from that point until now.

"Why did I leave with him? What was the REAL reason I married him? Why did I let it continue? Why didn't I leave after the first hit? Second? Third? Where was my spine at this point? Why was I afraid? I know staying together for our child won't work, why am I still here? Cheated on me again, and yet I stay? Am I weak? Am I not strong enought to walk away?''

There are about a million questions that I could ask, and that I could type right now that would fill this page for ages, and eventually it would run out of memory or room to type. As much as I question myself, I don't wish to change any of it. I know that at the time I would have found a reason or an excuse to why it is that I did what I did.

I was told, when I became pregnant, that from now on its going to be full of decisions some tough and some easier than most! And to whoever said that to me, you are so right! The hours creep by, but the years are flying away too fast from my grips!

Big events came and went in my life, anniversaries, birthdays, funerals, fights, police visits, court dates, mediations, and then divorce, with my daughter caught in the middle.

Going into it, I wanted to be this cut throat evil woman, and I had every right to do so. I had all the tools to make it happen as well. But then I had the urge to actually do what is right, and not what I wanted to do. This was NOT ABOUT ME, about about a very important little girl who deserves so much better.

Intermission

If dying meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume...Would you slow down? Or speed up?

This life is one huge stage, we are performers; if you will. Here to entertain whoever and whatever takes the time to stop, watch or listen. We entertain ourselves by the limelight, and we entertain others by the happiness, sadness, anger, and ecstasy. We will dance, act, and sing for all; But bleed, break, and cry only to ourselves.

Coming to the end of an act; the end of your life. Would you stay behind that curtain; dying? Or would you simply change costume?

Slowing down a one act play? Is that even possible? To make it last a lifetime and then some? You must add more flare, glamour, passion, drama, hurt, crisis, etc. Re-writing your script to make it lengthy. You put on your show. Staying strong, you push thru the aches, and short breath. You start slacking due to the pain you're putting upon yourself. Noticing one leaving their seat after another. You costume is drenched, shoes worn, voice hoarse, hair a mess... Another look to a half empty house. Your heart and eyes sink. Exhausted and now distracted, you missed a step... And then the fall. The stage floor is cold, hard, and empty, just like each of the seats in the house. Curtain Call.

To speed up, its a constant, never ending or aged crowd pleasing and attracting performance. Introducing new selves, and characters each second, each time the tempo picks up. How long does it take to become confused and running one character into the next? Regardless of how good the performer, if too fast and too much change, something will give. How long will it take for you to wish you would have chosen otherwise? Enjoyed a full house, repetative acts and routines, and a used costume? Everything new, at some point loses its luster, its shine, and becomes old and dull... Its so fast and ever changing, after a while, people will lose interest, and begin to wonder, "what is the purpose". One seat empty. "Who is that one again". Five seats empty. "Wait what happened" 20 seats empty. Before your costume is even warm, it hits the floor, putting on a shiny new cold one, all to walk out on that stage to an empty audience. Curtain Call.

Taking your act, scripted with all its ups and downs, and everything meaty inbetween, its meant to be that way. Read it as written, do not practice the adlib. Let the flare, glamour, and accents happen on their own. Let it be natural. When the curtain is drawn, do not be sad, or fill with anger as it is your time. Know that you gave it your all and performed from the heart. Do not wish to slow it down to savor something so small, that you miss the big encore. Nor wish to speed up to have that hige finale to miss the small details that make this all worth while.

Perform well. Live well.

Fear or Pain?

I have days were I seriously question my sanity, and wonder why I do what I do. I think that we all come to those conclusions now and again. It comes to one big question that reoccurs often: Why the hurt?

I have noticed that people are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. Feelings can and are disturbing at times. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can one deal with anything if they are afraid to feel? I am not sure that any sane person would continue to do something that hurts them, and causes them pain, but sometimes in order to get thru certain things, it happens and you bear with it, you grit your teeth and get thru it.

Pain is meant to wake us up, open our eyes. It makes us realize things that have all been forgotten. Or sometimes, it’s a painful reminder of how precious and sweet time can be. How little it takes and how much it meant.

People try to hide their pain, but they are wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio propped on your shoulder. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It is all how you carry it, that’s what matters. Don’t let it be something that you wear on your sleeve or something that you let bring you down… Learn thru the hard times, take something away from it, and build on it. Adapt and overcome.

Pain is a feeling, your feelings, which are a part of you, and your own reality. If you are ashamed to have felt or dealt with the pain, and you hide that fact, you’re letting fear destroy your reality and weaken who you are as a whole.

Never Mistake Beauty

Beautiful but Deadly...

From the top of her head, her beauty is undeniable. Something anyone and every is to notice. Envied by some. Hated by most, and wanted by all.

Lucious locks, long and sleek, begging you to run your fingers thru. Though, when you sleep, she'll being using it to strangle you.

Eyes desirable, with that "come hither" look. Seducing and watching your every move. Once she has you where she wants you, it's the last thing you'll ever see.

Lips, full colored of deep red wine. Meant to kiss and be kissed. Painted with a posion, that the lusted after contact, stops the heart, slowly and painfully.

A voice that speaks straight to your soul with an ease like no other, but blackens it and wreaks havvoc on when given the chance.

The body to draw every eye, no gender specifies, to stare, to fantisize, to hate, and to want. Though, she looks even more flawless glistening in your shade of crimson.

Hands to the softest of touch, caressing each inch of flesh, skin so porcelin almost white, and easy to stain. Yet, washes so clean of dirt after the work is done...

Never mistake it.

3 Things to Wish For...

Don’t wish me happiness – I do not expect to be happy. It’s gotten beyond that somehow. Wish me courage, strength, and a sense of humor, as I will need all three.


Wish me courage to open my eyes each morning, knowing that it could very well be my last, but not letting that exact though define who I am or how I live my life. I let each day be to the fullest no matter what comes my way, I bet I will laugh or smile today.
Wish me strength to keep moving forward, one step at a time, even when I find myself sitting on the floor in a puddle of tears, completely a mess. Though, picking myself up, dusting off, cleaning the mascara away from my stained cheeks, I know that it starts with one step, which can always be the hardest. Starting over? Or rewriting a new ending?

Wish me a sense of humor, to look back at everything I have done up to this point, and seriously laugh. Laugh at myself, the mess I made of things, the silly mistakes and choices I made, and then to celebrate my successes that I have found. Let me smile each day and laugh at something completely random, and share that with anyone and everyone I know.

Now I ask of those, to not wish me happiness, because its without expectation, and without expectation, you find it, because I’ve had it this whole time.