Dear family and friends, as you read this post, you may find yourself blushing uncontrollably as you ask herself, "Is she doing this? Is Other Mother really exposing her insanity to the world wide web and all those who stumble upon her blog?" And, the answer dear loved ones o' mine is, "yes, yes I really am." So, gird up your loins oh ye faithful and be prepared to be amazed and horrified all in the same moment.
I've been thinking about my last semester at University a lot lately. It was, by far, the most difficult and rewarding semester I remember experiencing at University. I remember one class in particular. It was an American Literature survey class that covered American Literature of the late 19th century to Modern day American Literature. Being an English Literature major, I've always been a snob towards American Literature (yes, I know I'm American... ), while this truth is baffling, it also stems from an unexplainable source. While all Literature majors are united n their nerdom... there still resides a competitive nature amongst various literature studies where we all want to prove that our specific branch of literature studies is better than all the rest. It's like feuding football fans... the Utes vs. the Cougars... it just exists... against all reason, it exists. Therefore, I always thought American Literature was lame and childish in comparison to my major English Literature, but alas, I was forced to take this class as a pre-requisite to another class, so I did it. I went in with the mindset that I wouldn't learn anything because there is nothing to be learned from American authors, and I've never been more wrong in my life. While I could divulge all the wisdom I've learned from specific American authors, I won't, because the specific event from this class that stood out to me most is the one that I've been thinking so much about lately.
The very end of this semester, my profesor (whom I had/and still might have a crush on... I heart you Professor Carney... and Mango, baby, if you are reading this, Professor Carney has nothing on you because I love you) had our class research current authors that are residing in Utah. The author I had the privilege of researching was also a professor at the time at the University I was attending. Her name is Laura Hamblin and she is brilliant. I purchased her book of poetry and took from it like it was manna from above. Simply put, I was blown away by her words. They struck me deep within and caused me to think outside of who it is I thought I was and to explore what it is I truly believe and I have never been the same since. I was fortunate enough to go to a reading of hers and to hear her read her work with her voice... to experience the intonation with which she spoke and how it changed the meaning of what was being read. What fascinated me the most were her poems where she claimed an alter ego. The voice in these poems was so different from the voice that read through the rest of her work that I found myself captivated and I've always thought about the idea of an alter ego. I asked her where she got the idea for this other voice, how it came to her and she told me, "The voice with which these poems speak is the voice of someone who isn't being restrained by social constructs or other's telling her what she can's or shouldn't do. The voice in these poems is the voice of a woman without restraint. It's everything I want to be when I feel repressed." That's beautiful. And that's what I've been thinking about lately.
Subject shift.
For those of you who recall from a previous post, I have had an unhealthy fascination and sick admiration with Roller Derby girls from a very young age. I have been researching Utah's Roller Derby League in anticipation of trying out for it next year. I have also been extensively researching roller derby equipment so that I might purchase the correct equipment in order to train for next year's tryouts. I have been struggling to find a merchant of aforementioned roller derby equipment in the state of Utah, however the lack of roller derby merchants in the state where I live has not hindered my desire to push forth with faith into the roller derby unknown... in fact, I find myself even more driven to succeed.
Subject shift.
I have an amazing boyfriend. He is supportive of me in my goals and my dreams and my aspirations. I'm a lucky girl to be the recipient of his love. When I feel incapable, he gives me dozens of reasons why I am capable. He makes me feel fearless when I come up with a game plan to achieve my dreams. He also came up with my Roller Derby-girl name and I love it. Is it a name that conjurs warm fuzzies in one's heart? Absolutely not. Is it a name that will make my parent's glow with pride when they hear the commentator announce it in the arena? Not at all. Is it absolutely hysterical? It's the funniest thing I've ever heard. Is it perfect? Yes. Does it make me love him even more? Absolutely.
Without further ado, I introduce you my dear compadres to my alter ego (drum roll please).... Kiwi Trip-A-B*tch Unconscious.
Who is Kiwi Trip-A-B*tch Unconscious? She is fearless. She is honest to a fault. She is, potentially, tactless in her honesty, but honest all the same. She makes everything her cause and she fights for it. She is assertive. She isn't scared to throw a punch. She knows how to throw a punch. She is passionate. She fights for what she knows is right even it what is "right" to her is completely wrong to others who are too scared to fight for themselves. She sticks up for the underdog even if all the odds are stacked against him. She takes it as a personal insult when someone she loves is harmed or belittled and will cause pain (emotional or physical) to the one who harmed or belittled her loved one. She isn't afraid of lace or the color pink. She understands the necessity of tulle in some fashions. She believes that the 1980's were a major accident (excluding the hair bands) and doesn't understand why people feel the need to bring back certain styles from the '80's (no excuse is good enough to explain shoulder pads). She is determined to bring back old school gangster slang like, "yo diggity", "word to your mother" and "word!" back into modern vernacular. She uses words like "vernacular" and "misnomer". She sounds Irish when she's excited or angry. She doesn't give up; if it's important to her, she doesn't give up. Even though she hates cheerleaders, she is the greatest cheerleader to have in your corner when you need support and encouragement. She isn't perfect but she learns from the difficulties she faces. She lives her life tall. And last for now, but certainly not least, she is "possibly" known to swear like a sailor. Simply put, Kiwi Trip-A-Bi*ch Unconcious is the definition of bad-a*s, word!
You may be confused as to why any of the above is important in the first place. I understand the confussion, it's valid. I've been feeling down lately. I've been trying so hard to correct all that is wrong with me that I've been subconsciously putting myself down every day for thinking that there is something wrong with me in the first place. Does that make any sense at all? Am I perfect? No. Is anyone perfect? Surely not. And that's the point. Why is everyone putting themselves down? Why can't we accept our "faults" as part of who we are and embrace them as the "strengths" we need when we don't feel strong? I'm not making sense here. I feel vulnerable right now because I am telling myself I'm not good enough and I began thinking to myself about Laura Hamblin and her other voice. If I wasn't supressing myself and telling myself who I should be like and what I shouldn't be doing, then who would I be?
I would be fearless because I wouldn't recognize my weaknesses as something to be ashamed of. I would be honest in how I interract with people, even if the honesty that they need to hear is something they don't want to hear. I would passionately stand against the injustices I see around me that other's probably don't think to spend a second fretting about... and I would do that because I can and should because it affects me. I wouldn't be afraid to stick up for myself and be assertive when I don't appreciate how certain people treat me. I would know how to effectively defend myself, and trust me, if I knew how to do that, I could have avoided some horrible situations. I wouldn't think twice in telling someone who has hurt someone I love- beit a rude word said out of anger or whatever- what I think of them and where they can stick their opinion and I wouldn't be afraid to cause another fight because I know I can out speak them and what I speak would ring with honesty and shake the offender to their core with how unjust they've been. I wouldn't be afraid to be feminine and girly. It's stupid to say this, but I've always been afraid of makeup, and the color pink... I get nervous when standing in the hairspray aisle at the grocery mart, until recently, I was afraid of lace and I never understood tulle. I am beautiful... those words sometimes catch in my chest and I can't say them. I am beautiful and deserve to recognize this, and I'm working on recognizing it. I have nothing to say about the '80's except for, "Brett Michaels, I love you!" I've always felt that tall people are feerless because the world isn't as big to them as it is to a short person and this is an excuse for me to justify living my life in fear. I'm short and I'm powerful and I will live my life tall- there isn't anything I can't do. When I feel weak or unworthy I will aske myself, "What would KTABU do?" And I will remember that no one is perfect and what is imperfect about me is what is beautiful about me.
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