Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Terrence and Phillip are not amused…hee hee…eh…

Peace,
Melissa

I saw “The Fall” tonight, and fell in love with filmmaking all over again. The magic of storytelling and moving pictures is fully alive in this movie. I watched in awe and joy, the same way I watched movies as a child. I was in wonderment, thrilled, laughing, crying, charmed and wowed. The ending montage was a beautiful way to lead out - the first decades of filmmaking stunts.

At the same time, I am pondering love, love and LOVE. Loving what I do, in a different way now, not so hands on, more directive, distance and giving up some control…it is combing the artist in me with this emerging adult. Growing up means taking the reigns because there is no one else, or at least not someone I’d trust enough to get things right. Having had to do it all, I thought managing the process would be easier, many hands on the task sorta thing. I’m finding many hands in doesn’t mean any work, or quality work gets done.

I am also finding love in family - that when it comes to work, I now really appreciate the work ethic my family had installed in me. And wish I could hire my sister, cause she’d whip my office into shape like nobody’s business. She’s a mom, and moms are hard to argue with.

Now LOVE…ugh…too many offers for one off’s, pass by’s, tourists and visitors. Dates recently have been complete wastes of time. Do I hope for something better? I’m 38, looking 25, acting 17, and haven’t found anyone suitable handle my awesomeness. At 40, I’m just gonna get knocked up - do it the way my mom and grandma did it - no men, because they proved to be utterly useless (even in the funds department), just all out parenting. I so do not want to have to do it that way, being a fatherless woman myself, and really had wanted that big family lifestyle. I wanted so much, perhaps too much, to have a family of my own, unique, unusual, fun, wild, safe, sweet, kind and deeply connected to each other. I am stuck out in the rain with men who can’t/won’t commit, be real, be wonderful. Yah, its raining men, but I’m just getting soggy.

In NYC, men assume you are reaching for their wallets somehow, some way. How to explain all I want is LOVE, to the paranoid, selfish, traumatized and stupid? If I wanted “security”, I would have stayed married to a man who would have let me do whatever I wanted, as long as I left him alone. And I did feel terribly, terribly alone, with a man who couldn’t touch without seizing up, who couldn’t love without shutting down, and who wanted children before even knowing who I, or he, was. I wanted LOVE but not at that price…

I know what I LOVE - my art. Perhaps I made my choice long ago, when I stepped off the predictable path (to be honest, I was born off it, so probably never really had a chance to be “normal”). As an artist, you are born to create, and then you are tested. Do you really want this? Must you create, not “want” or “like to” but MUST? What would you sacrifice for this LOVE, this ART?

The pollen path is beautiful, scary, full of distraction and discovery. Its also solo journey, mostly, and you must have a good sense of self to survive. My thoughts and ideas go to places a lot of people can’t follow. Too complex, too deep, too emotional, too loud, too bright, too colorful, too honest, too fast. Too much - multo, multo, multo…

I AM too much. For most people. I am still wondering if there is a mate who can deal with my sunny thunderstorms, high sex drive, vegan diet (supplemented with sushi), herbal habits and workaholism. If not, can the universe make this abundantly clear, so I am not seeking more from passing interactions other than the physical?

Ah, the physical…sometimes the need to be touched tricks me into thinking the toucher wants to know my skin deeper, savor my taste to be discovered on his palette over decades, sort and translate my noises and sounds, create a library of each story or mood, hear me, know me, connect and stay with me. Hold me in my sleep, be my sentinel, guard my dreams and body. Want nothing more than a smile from me. Doesn’t run from tears or yelling, and makes me breathe (I forget to so often). Chooses me first, over everything and everyone, and promises to never leave

So I can, finally, totally, unreservedly, give myself to something greater than just me - to a family. Be that partner, that mom-o-holic, that great and wonderful wise woman who shares all of her knowledge, soothes all wounds, makes all meals and sings all songs.

Do these collide or combine - love, love and LOVE?

Peace and much love,
Melissa