Sunday, September 23, 2012

Body Vs Disk

Ingredients for this My Time: THINKING with DRINKING

Sometimes I like to think. And sometimes, thinking likes to devour me.

 When that time comes, I like to drink.

It is as if because I am a woman, Think can consume my body as if it were an object on the economic market to purchase, own, and discard when no longer viable or another upgrade comes along. I mean, whoever heard of a woman's body being a good on the market, a commodity one can evaluate for worth?
Oh. Wait.

This Mr Think often comes to say hello to me, and even after introducing him to Mr Drink, he refuses to leave. Mr Think has some problems with MANNERS. So what can I do to get him out of mi vida loca? I've decided a natural, holistic approach called DIET is the way.

Honey, I'm going on a disk diet. My thinking is that if I eat only while thinking about math, I'll lose this 25 lbs of bullshit I've gained since moving to my mini-mansh in the Midwestern country, and gain that much back in self-esteem. (Insert comment here about how women's bodies are not commodities to be evaluated and consumed). But really, Darling, disks.
"plus one 'Skinny Girl MargaritaTM,' please!"
They're safe. They've got everything they need on the INSIDE while maintaining a demure, white, symmetrical OUTSIDE. They're not hurting anyone, they don't make mistakes, and they feel absolutely nothing. I've been fortunate enough to have my training in being a woman starting early on, with my attentive mother putting me on diets, telling me no one will like me if I don't lose weight, and occasionally instigating a nice cardio session with her fists on my body or a bar of soap to the mouth (one can never be too clean! Lesson number one!). But some women can still learn that "you are what you eat!" And Honey, I've decided that I really don't need another pre-divorce ceremony (wedding) or another alimony struggle if I can simply and finally be: a disk.

What's that you say, Honey? I can't turn into a delicious disk with a slightly toasty BUT STILL WHITE exterior and a sassy, hidden inside that will only be revealed once I'm consumed by someone who has chosen and paid for me? Well, Honey, if my body is a commodity, then I'm a good on the market, and I should be able to upgrade like every other Apple product. I choo-choo-choose upgrading to a disk!
Ah, Honey, only a short time left for me in the Midwestern Country. Where will I go? How will I get there? I don't know. But I do know that my legacy will be the first woman who has finally understood that her body is a commodity. Sure, the feminists might tell you, "boo! Women's bodies are not commodities! We are ourselves! We are not owned by a male-dominant media and world governments nor are we going to compare ourselves to celebrities' bodies or magazine covers that are not real representations of women! We age and we have cellulite!" But here's the thing: our bodies are commodities. BUT GOD THAT'S SO FREEING! You know why? WE CAN UPGRADE! And since I've gained 25 lbs since moving to the Midwestern Country, I'm choo-choo-choosing to upgrade to a disk. A beautiful, thoughtless, changeless-until-consumed- disk. And the best thing about being a commodity is that once we are consumed, we are nothing. Lo, to be Not-Are...the next place I move will have heroin, again, at least. A lady likes to keep her options open!

"i can't stand you too much longer                                               _
can't you see                                                                              _     _
you can use me for some time                                                _           _
then i'm history                                                                     _                _
one more kiss then i'm history                                           _                     _
                                                                                        _                           _
well the sad martyr come                                             _                _               _
i scratch your arms and you won't come                                        _
scratch your eyes so you can't see                                                 _
what it means to feel so dumb                                                        _
one more kiss then we're history                                                    _
what's the point of getting angry                                                     _
over me?                                                                                         _
you can use me for some time                                                        _
it's a game to me                                                                             _
i don't know you where you are                                                      _
like you used to be                                                                          _
one more leap then we're history"                                                  _

Of course when I'm not thinking too much, I'm blissed out. Instead of eradicating myself from history, I make a place for myself in it. While that feeling hasn't been around for awhile, it comes at times. Like exactly RIGHT NOW. The truth is that I've chosen to be in a non-affirming situation right now to strengthen other things and get a degree. What this degree means to me the closer I am to it is less and less. In order for me to find a balance between oblivion and bliss (and I do enjoy the pendulum of both at times, while with intimacy, music, travel, and vice) affirmation is something that I would like. It helps. Being told one is beautiful (something that hasn't happened to me in the last year or so but was a part of my life for so long that I guess I presumed it would persist) and knowing that the person saying that is sleighed solely by one's body is really lovely. Yet, this feeds into the commodity game that make women suffer so, as well as men who buy into a standard account of the woman's body that can be equated with lust, love, and happiness. And yet, it is helpful to wade in superficials sometimes. The problem, I suppose, is when we lose the difference between superficial and important in our own self-worth, or that we buy into the concept of self in the first place. Me, I feel like the energy I am is more like an avalanche or some forward motion that, because of its motion, chances from one thing to the next via action.

Honey, it's true.I feel forward movement yet without a hill in this Midwestern Country to fall down. It's embarrassing for us all. So I make my hills, hence :

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