Caged Bird, Be Free...

I was twelve years old when I first read the words of Maya Angelou. I was too young. I pretended, often, to know what words like iridescent and palpable meant. I pretended to understand her prose, her rhythm, her voice. I pretended until I understood.

In most American high schools, you're required to read I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, and while most kids looked online for the summary, I read every page twice. I soaked up the knowledge, the pain, the humor. She was so funny in that book. She could talk about sadness and make me smile. That's because Maya Angelou wasn't perfect, didn't want to be perfect, and probably wouldn't like you if you were perfect. She was the real deal. She was a woman.

Three days ago I sobbed myself to sleep because for the first time in a long time I was afraid to be a woman. A guy with a gun shot seven girls because they had opinions, attitudes, personalities... souls. Because they were more than their body parts. He instilled the notion that sometimes you can do everything right, and there is still a reason to be afraid. And I was.

And as I thought about my fear, or my guilt if it can even be called that, I though about Maya. I thought about Hilary. I thought about Susan B. and Amelia and Harriet and women that I studied and dreamt about. Women that I feel I know. I feel I'm connected to. And that connection no longer makes me afraid. When I think of my mother, my aunts, my best friend, my sources of strength that have seen the darkest of days and yet remain intact... I have realized in the past few days that the strongest I've ever felt is when I am surrounded by strength. And there is no one stronger than a woman. (I mean, childbirth. Let's talk about that for a second.)

So. After a pretty sad week of thinking of all the times I've been told to protect my self rather than have boys be told to, you know, not be sucky people... I've come to the conclusion (not really, my mind will change thirteen more times today) that while I cannot predict if the man walking down the street is going to pass by or mug me (again)... I know that I am solid.

 I will cry at every episode of Gilmore Girls. I think Barack Obama's smile won his election, the first time. I eat more chocolate than is legal. I pretend to be on the phone when I think someone is about to come up and talk to me at bus stops. I think shaving your legs in the winter is stupidity personified. Sports bras. I don't own any kitchen appliances. And every summer instead of buying shorts I cut the pants I've worn all winter into shorts. I'm a woman. I'm so proud to be a woman. And you should be proud to be around a woman, because she will get shit done.

That's what Maya taught me. There is going to be chaos. There is going to be grief. Despair. Heartache with heartbreak. Years will go by and you'll realize you haven't moved. And then one day the fog lifts, you make a plan, and in the way only a woman will understand... you clean up your mess and you get shit done. It's just that simple.

I will miss Maya. I will miss her words, which have made the world a better place.
I finally understand your prose (well, kinda) and I absolutely hear your voice as you say:

I am a woman, phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me. 

Sleep well.
Cheers.

Adele Dazeem. What?

A quick note to say that it's the best feeling on the planet when you realize you have been 100% yourself. All day I was crabby. People are bossy. People are annoying. And I was walking around telling myself not to get worked up and to let it go, and I couldn't. But I got home, called Teri D, and forced myself to laugh about it and move on. And you know, it's just the best feeling. I'm not going to settle or pretend that I don't get (fucking) livid at points. I'm not going to pretend I don't overreact at least 78 times a day. No one should have to pretend anything. For a while there, the past three years maybe, I thought I had to push away a lot of emotions so people would think of me as the funny-but-gets-things-done version of myself. I am that person, but I'm also the person that will openly weep if you point out my acne. I'm starting, or I'm continuing, to really love my 22 year old self. It's such a journey, and when there's spilt coffee and people telling you they're better at life and too tight of pants you can really lose the good times. I'm just thankful for humor, for honest moments, and for days like today where you get pissed and then get over it. Some people spend so much energy and time holding on to grudges. They are not cool people. I am cool people. Obvvvvvviioussllyyy.

I need to not be crabby. Aka, where's the beer?

Kiss kiss.

Cheers.

(don't be bossy. okay, bye.)

Honey & I

Last night I spent time with a few gals and gents I have spent the past few years with. It was such a beautiful moment to just sit in a room and talk, vent, joke, and most importantly laugh. Most of them are well into their last semester of school, and it's a bizarre feeling to know that I started school before them and will be here after they leave. In my most selfish of moments, it makes me feel lesser. In my strongest moments, I know with everything in me taking time from school was the best decision I could have made. And I've been met with nothing but kindness from so many people about taking control of my life and creating my own path. It's a beautiful thing when you can feel a person's support, their guiding hand on your back on the really bad days.

Last night as I was about to leave, one of the girls that hosted our evening told me such kind words, I feel selfish even sharing them... but. whatever. imma do it. She told me that there have been moments throughout our time together in college, specifically this year, where she had said to herself that if she could be anyone for a day she would be me. And I'm thinking... ME?! What? Immediately my mind went into 'You're getting a compliment, smile and hug and you'll process this later' mode. It was such an unbelievable kindness she showed me. It's an amazing thing to tell someone. But the insecurities of life took that moment and I immediately told myself, 'She doesn't really know me.' And that's just not fair. That's not what I want for myself. I'm not sure why it happened, or why I couldn't accept the gift I was being given by being told I was someone who is interesting, beautiful, kind, and most importantly human enough to embody for a day. I guess I thought, more than anything, if she were to live in my shoes for a day she would see how un-spectacular I really was as a person. But... this morning, over my peanut butter and honey toast, I'm calling bullshit.

Spectacular has to mean getting up for work on time. Spectacular has to mean cutting your bangs yourself and of course they're uneven but they're mine and they're perfect. Spectacular has to mean not fitting into your jeans so you wear dresses until that happens again. Spectacular has to mean forcing yourself to write by going to a coffee shop with no wallet, no internet and no headphones so you're forced to find out what new updates Microsoft Word is working with. Spectacular has to be the most human moments you carry with you day to day, because those moments are what make me feel strong.

I don't like self-doubt. I don't like loneliness. I don't like turning a compliment into a worry. But maybe that's part of the makeup of MacKenzie. I can never truly understand why someone would want to live as me when I get so bored/lonely/tired just going to work and coming home... maybe somewhere in the world there is a person who can't feel those things... who longs for emotion. They can have some of mine. I'm willing to give that up for day. But just a day. I think I'd miss it if it left. Weird.

Cheers to the compliments that stay with you, deep inside for a long long time. Cheers to kind words, and kind souls. Cheers to you.

Little Fighter Girl

This blog is kind of a jumbled mess, so forgive the bad grammar/typos/no clear beginning middle end to it all. I'm currently sitting in my room, tea and book beside me, ready to call it a night (7:30 pm, I'm 79 years old, thankyouverymuch) after a near perfect weekend. I got to see so many people I absolutely adore in the past two days... I was able to watch theatre, drink a very large beer, dance, and have meaningful, honest conversations with people I'm just crazy about. That's all I really want, meaningful moments with people that fill my life with joy.

A lot of my blog posts have been me trying to understand the concept of happiness. Of what it means to truly find happiness, or maybe it's not something you find but something you grow within. I've always thought feeling strong meant feeling happiness. In one post, I said that I hope happiness is a journey. In other, I asked how it could be so easy to notice the bad days and forget about the good. Well, I think, a month into my 'find joy' experiment, I have an answer.

Happiness is work. It's a lot of (fucking) work, and it's the most gratifying work I've ever experienced.  It takes waking up every morning and choosing a positive, healthy life. Every single person gets the same 24 hours each day, how we choose to spend them is a result in our ultimate happiness. I saw a play last night, and a character asks, point blank: 'Who said you were owed happiness?' It stays with me because I truly think for a few years there I expected happiness. I expected a life with things and people and experiences without actually working for anything. I'm not sure why it took me so long to choose happiness for myself, but I'm so grateful it's finally here.

One of my favorite conversations of the weekend was with a friend who said, 'The kindest person in the room has the hardest time falling asleep at night.' It goes along with another conversation I had about how people with good souls, with honest intentions, with pure hearts... they take the longest to forgive themselves. It's people who are quick to forgive themselves and move on that you need to worry about, because their heart bounces back too quick. I've made a lot of mistakes in the past few years, not really taking care of myself and being quick to ignore what I truly want out of this life... and in the past year I've filled my days with guilt. It's the casual thought walking to class thinking you're not good enough. It's looking at your bank statement and making a joke rather than getting a job. It's not taking yourself seriously and then being shocked when other people don't. It's little things that add up to a really big thing, realizing your guilt is now a tangible, malignant role in your everyday life. I used to think it would never go away. I always saw guilt as permanent. I never realized, until these conversations this weekend, that there is power in guilt. There's an insane amount of power in seeing guilt, accepting choices/mistakes, and pursuing a goal to overcome it. There's power in understanding our own humanity, our own mortality.

I've always said forgiveness is one of my favorite things in this world. It's a beautiful moment when you can look at someone from your past and feel your heart change... the pain or anger or injustice, it's simply gone. After a month of changing my days and choosing to see joy in my everyday, I realized this weekend that I've, in some small way, forgiven myself. And, ultimately, it's led to happiness. Happiness isn't a journey, it isn't some magic puzzle that you figure out when the right person walks into your life. It's work. It's the decisions you make in your 24 hours. It's choosing joy. It's working to be a better you.

I'm so grateful for this past weekend, I saw so many people I'm just crazy about. I got to feel their pride as they told me I looked beautiful, or I seemed like I was doing well. And I am. Guys, I'm doing really well. The best part, is that for the first time in years, I'm doing well because of my own actions. I'm not waiting for someone to catch me. I'm not waiting for someone to fight my battles. I'm choosing everyday to make my time worth it. I'm working my ass off for happiness, and it's worth every fight. Happiness in itself doesn't necessarily make me feel strong, but choosing positivity, choosing to fall asleep at a decent time... choosing to brush my teeth and make my bed and eat the goddamn salad and read read read and admit loneliness and tell your friend you're proud of him and... to truly live, to have full days of accomplishing small goals... I guess I've never felt this strong. Since starting this blog, I've always wanted to get to this point. The point of feeling pride in myself because I'm taking an active role in my life. I'm actively choosing moments of joy, which lead me to my own, small, unique, full days of happiness. Yes. Yes. Absolutely, yes.

Cheers to the fighters. Cheers to the cheerleaders. Cheers to breaking down walls within and choosing moments of joy. Cheers to you.

But This Wind, Tho...

As said in the last post, I've been feeling all kinds of lonely in the past few days. It's only grown since all I've done is go to work and come home and veg out... but this morning, as my friend's slept in due to the first snow day of the semester, I posted a status from work... stating how even though I'm not a student at the moment (taking time off to get some life experience/pay some bills/grow da fuque up) I was able to go into work this morning and hopefully warm up people's day with some bakery goodness and coffee. And while of course it's social media so you should expect a few likes here and there, I find myself smiling as each individual who acknowledged the post. I don't know. Facebook is stupid shit. It's a weird mind game where you post about yourself so people know you're alive and married and bought a new car and look at my dog jumping over my cat and I'm wearing this dress today with these boots aren't I cute and it's just the stupidest... But it's also a place of support, especially this morning when I craved a hug.

I don't know. I feel like a fourteen year old posting about a status... but it just made me so happy. It's my moment of joy for today. My kodak moment. Plans for tonight sort of fell through and so just knowing that even if your not physically with your best mates, the support is never far. That's a great feeling to carry on your back.

Oh, winter. All the feelings, at all the same times. Go home, vortex, you're just a big bitch.

okbyenow.

The Waves, You Know?

I've just had this surge of loneliness come over me. It's the weirdest feeling, when it comes all at once. Everyone has it, and yet loneliness feels completely secluded. Other people's lonely doesn't feel this way, you tell yourself. They have this person and this person, and they fall asleep next to so and so... but that's bogus and I know that's bogus so forgive the bogus.

Short post. Sometimes I just need to write down that at this exact moment I can feel my emotions, tangible evidence that sometimes moments in my day aren't the best. There are so many good moments, it's only human to feel the lows. I wish there was someone to hold onto... but then again I get to hold myself up, and that makes me feel strong.

Ok, interweb. Gonna go watch Free Willy and shed some tears and wake up tomorrow refreshed and ready to celebrate my day off. Anxious heart, relax, already. It's only life...

Cheers.

Her and Me and You

When award season is upon us, I watch every movie under the sun. The films that I missed throughout the year finally get watched, and every year without fail one has an insane impact of me. I'll watch in fifteen times. In a row. I'll quote it, publicly, in a speech, about washing your hands after using the restroom (but seriously, it takes two minutes, just rinse ya damn phalanges)... This year the film that is keeping me awake dreaming about creating is Her by Spike Jonze.

We're here only briefly. And while we're here, I want to allow myself joy.

This quote, from the film, is now posted on my mirror, my phone, I made a bookmark... It's getting a little out of hand. One of my main goals for 2014 is to spend every day focusing on the small, average things in my everyday that bring a smile to my face. In other words, teach myself joy. Fall in love with my life. It was my goal before I saw this film, and when I heard the line I immediately felt this surge of emotion come over me. I love that about film. I get so engrossed in what's before me, for two/two and a half hours my mind/heart is in a brand new, expensively gorgeous place. 

This film takes place in the near-ish future. People dress clean and the buildings are beautiful. Pastels and mustaches, hipster outfits but everyone washed their hair. The world is, in a sense, perfect. And yet people can still feel loneliness and long for more. It was a reminder as I head into one whole month of documenting my moments of joy that in any world, in any place, you make a choice. Everyday you choose to get up, stay up, and never give up. You choose joy.

A friend of mine and I were talking on New Year's Eve, the day before my quest of allowing myself joy technically began, and he shared a conversation he had once where someone asked, blatantly, 'Who ever said you were owed happiness?' Who ever said happiness/joy/health/love is given, without work or even acknowledgement? To me, it was an 'Ohhhhhh, yeah!!!!' moment. Obviously it's not just given to us. Obviously we have to work our asses off to fight for our happiness/joy/health/love. Obviously it's something worth fighting for. So how can something so obvious be so easy to forget? I'm glad I'm making it a priority these days... Every day I write down what in the last 24 hours brought me joy I go to sleep smiling. Not bad.... Not bad at all.

Cheers to the work. Cheers to, always, taking life just a little too seriously. (I mean, really, it's just another film with kooky Walking Pheonix) (Please laugh at my joke about how walking and Joaquin sound the same).... Cheers to you.


Also, how bad was American Hustle??? lol jkjkjkjjkj nvm ttyl