Concepts of Beauty

My Grandmother keeps trying to get me to change what I like about myself. We're supposed to be going on a cruise this August around the Bahamas. When I spoke to her last week she told me what it was like on the boat, "you're going to forget you're on a boat, it's like being in a mall' or she'd tell me about the Governer's Ball which happens one night on the ship, and that I have to be dressed nicely for dinner. I'm like 'alright' and she continues asking me if I'm going to 'get my hair done' or wear earrings, or telling me I can't wear denims, she's old and doesn't usually say 'jeans' for whatever reason.

I try to listen, but when she asks me an honest question I decide I'm going to answer honestly:
-"Will you get my hair done in a beauty salon": no, I like my hair short and natural
-"well, will you go to a barber? How much does it cost?"; between $10-15, and no, my friend can cut my hair;
-"how do you know they can cut hair? What if you don't like it?": I'll cut it all off then let it grow back. Hair will grow back.
-"You're not going to wear a hat every day, your hair won't grow long if you wear a hat all the time.": I like my hats and I don't want my hair to grow long, Grandma.
-"Fine, you're going to wear earrings right?": No Grandma, they irritate my ears, I don't like 'em. As I kid I didn't like them.
"Well, you have to dress nice, you can't go out to eat wearing denims. When you go out with your friends you have to look nice so you can meet people."

You'd think I'd be dizzy from rolling my eyes so much. I finally get her to stop this ridiculous attempt at changing me by explaining I wear and present myself how I like. I don't like dresses or earrings so I don't wear them. I like my hats so I wear them. I have the commonsense to not go to a nice dinner in baggy messy jeans or cargos, but it's the same commonsense that keeps me from going to a messy art class in a really nice shirt. It's neither the time nor is it the place. No, I won't wear make-up, no I won't conform to society's conventions of beauty because I don't like them.

I am me, let me prove to you my life is fine, that I'm happy, when I'm not depressed - my appearance doesn't affect my depression, so I'm happy in how I look, how I dress and ow I carry myself. I have been told that things I have ae nice, that they look good, stop trying to compare me to my mother. Stop trying to compare me to other people, be happy that I'm happy.

I don't know. I could easily just say yes to everything she says I should do, but I wouldn't be happy. It's better to get this stupid non-important argument out of the way now instead of it being a stupid non-important argument in three months when sh sees me to wearing earrings, not wearing make-up, not wearing nail polish. I'll primp to my own tastes not hers. The thing is, like I said, I like how I dress, I like the clothes I wear, I don't want to 'work' that goes into being 'beautiful' and that shit all costs too much. Concealer, mascara, lipstick, blush, facial wash, zit cream, nail polish, nail polish remover, hair rollers, hair relaxant. If I had one of each of those things I'd've spent $100 easy. Why? To fit into what society considers to be beautiful. I want to buck trends and fuck convention.

It's like I questioned in this image http://dichigo.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d1kcwn9 a scribble from a few years ago, I want to go back to it again at some point, but why should I listen to the magazines, the voices outside. To hell with them, if I'm happy how I am, why do I have to listen to people out there who work so hard to change themselves and others to their own conventions and beauty, to what they think society would like. No, that's not me.

When I leave for that cruise I will have some nice shirts, I will have one or two skirts, I will also have sneakers, sandals, denim gouchos, one or two of my hats, either my FreakAngels or Israeli Paratrooper bag, at least one sketchbook, pens, pencils, two or three novels and my DS, plus other odds and ends. I'll have things to look nice in, to look nice with that I like, and I'll have the things I like that are comfortable. It's what I like

Jasmine P.

Nothing Ever Changes

It's never fair. I'm not super happy right now, I rarely get what I want. Yes, a new phone is nice, but I did ask for an mp3 player. I don't come home because I can't deal with my brother. Either he decides to be pissy over something I've barely done, or I get angry with him. It's not healthy, and it's not right. I don't like coming home, not just because of the trip, but I never feel respected. I was the one with the remote, I had the choice of what to watch on tv. When we were younger I never said anything. I'm tired of acquiescing. I have the right to watch what I want to on my own or with other people. I should be respected. I am not respected by my eldest brother. I don't know what I feel right now, but I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of being depressed and feeling like no one respects me.

Yes, I understand you're going to work in an hour. So what if I'll be able to watch TV for the rest of the day, I wasn't planning on it, I was planning on getting out. I was planning on having fun and being happy. This day can turn around, but right now it sucks. I don't say anything because I knew he wouldn't understand. I wasn't talking about today or now. I was talking about before. Things change but they mostly stay the same. Yes, I do think about you. I put myself is places or not in places because I want to stay happy and because it's for you.

You make things too fucking difficult. You're too much of a wild card. I try one thing you take it the wrong way. But seriously. It's fucking television. I don't have cable, I don't spend my time watching TV or playing video games. I don't because I don't have it. Coming home's a treat because there are things here that I don't have in Norfolk. You make me not like being home, I don't like coming back to Reston because things in the house suck. You fucking smoke weed all the goddamn time, I never say anything. I never said a damned word when I heard you and your girlfriend having sex. When I come home and we're eating I next to never say a word about whatever's on TV, I'll watch it, or I go away because I don't like it.

That's my problem, I stay quiet too much, I never say anything. Maybe I'll start speaking up more, maybe that will make me happy. I always talk big when I write, but nothing ever changes. But I try. I try valiently, in my opinion, to roll with whatever happens. I try not to let him get to me. But in this instance I can remember them not like That 70's Show all that much and my wanting to watch it. Now it's not so much that I didn't want to watch it, I wanted the choice of watching it or not.

I'm also annoyed because I did so much work yesterday. He had next to nothing. He made cornbread, and he put the dishes in the dishwasher. He took a nap after doing nothing to help. I on the other hand, made sweet potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, a turkey, a ham, mashed potatoes. My other brother made macaroni and cheese, stuffing and string beans. I did the heaving lifting, they barely said 'thank you'. I am so fucking under-appreciated. I feel that way if it's not the case.

I feel unloved. I don't feel like anybody really loves me. I know they both care, but really, how much would change if I didn't come home? We never do anything all together, I come home to see my friends. I always say things about 'the three of us' it feels more like it's 'the two of them, plus me'. As an adult, I'm still a hanger-on. I felt more welcome or appreciated when my brother's friend was here yesterday. Then I felt alone in a crowd. I want to disappear and not tell them where I go, see how much they care. Seriously, were I to drop off the face of the earth, would they care? I saw not him so much. More out of obligation than real caring.

Once I was angry I didn't care. Back the what started this I might have chosen 'That 70's Show' to watch anyway. That's the retarted part. Give me the chance to see what's on first. I don't get respected and it upsets me. I want to be loved, feel like someone loves me, cares about me. More than that, I want to feel respected. He was too dense to even notice that I said that I bet. I try to stay happy, content. I try so damned hard.

I'm fucking tired of crying, I'm tired of being depressed. I damn near want to hop in the car and go back to Norfolk today, after I finish my laundry. I'd be alone, and I'd have Borjo. I'd have people who aren't my brothers. I'd have my independence back, I'd feel like an adult. I'm independent here, I feel like and adult but I'd have respect. I would be respected in my own domicile, I'd have people to chit-chat with. I wasn't alone in the house yesterday, but for the better part of the day I was alone. Between 9am and about 9pm it was me in the kitchen. The guys made and appearance, then went to the basement, one of them was around for about the hour. The other barely did anything.

I damn near want to find a bar to escape to, but drinking alone in the epitome of lame and depression. I'm tired of being alone.

I'm tired of so much shit. I think it's time to take a shower, venture out to a coffee shop with a book, but on a day like today, trying to find a comfortable Borjo like atmosphere would be that much more difficult. But an adventure could clear the head and cheer me up.

Why do I make fewer typos when I'm upset?

Jasmine P.

This, The Day of My Father's Wedding...

Or, 'My Father Has Commitment Issues'

September 5, 2009 was the day my father got married for the third time. The first time was about 27 years ago when he married my mother and sired 3 children. He divorced her about 20 years ago not too long before I turned 1. One of the reasons given for that is 'she spent too much money' it wasn't even a joint account, it was her money, so he had no real place to tell her what she was spending or wasn't spending too much money on.

Some time later my two older brothers and I are in a rhythm of visiting him every other weekend, for two weeks during the summer, and for a few days after Christmas. We spent all major holidays with our mother. Father's Day we'd sometimes switch up the weekends so we could see him, and the same for Mother's Day if it was his weekend, we'd stay with out mother. In this period of time he got married a second time. His new wife could not produce children, so about 9 years ago he adopted a girl from birth, my energetic little sister. He divorced the second wife about 6, 7 years ago, for reasons I either can't remember or haven't been told. I disagreed with it because of my little sister. But he is a dick and does as he pleases.

Two years ago, a few days after my brother's and I buried our dead mother, he and his 'girlfriend' whom my brothers and I have known for maybe 2 years then, announced that he was engaged. We were floored, because that was another year that my father took home the great big golden 'bad fucking timing' award. Yesterday was the culmination of at least two years of being engaged.

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History done, now onto yesterday and my issues with just many things.

My brothers, Shani and I arrived at the Catholic Church about fifteen minutes early. We first saw our sister who was adorable was passing out programs for the wedding. She was excited to see us like usual. Inside was a mixture of doctors from the Veteran's Affairs hospital in DC, where both my father and Pattie work. There was family, so I said 'hi' to my Titi [diminutive of 'aunt' in spanish. I think it's akin to 'aunty'] and to my Abuela [grandmother]. I saw some of my cousins and some family friends, then there were all of Pattie's family, most of whom I didn't know. Hell, even the ones I've met, I didn't remember. One woman seemed annoyed I didn't remember her, but I met her, once, 5 fucking years ago!!! Over the past 4 gatdamn years I have more important things to remember, such as the nams of people I see daily, information for my classes, my own characters. I have my own life and it's not like I see you all the time.

Adults need to remember that, you see photos of my on my father's desk, or in his house all the fucking time. I only see you when when I go to your house, or to the VA with him which I haven't really done in ten years or so. It's not me being offensive, it's me being a kid and having much more pressing things to think about all the time and not some nurse who works with my father, or some family member who isn't really apart of my family.

We move onto the wedding, which is some sort of condensed Catholic wedding I assume. It was my first Catholic wedding to attend, every other one I've been to has been some sort of Protestant. There's the procession, that's whatever, I applaud like I should. Then Pattie enters, it's the bride's moment. The first time that 99% of the people attending even see the dress. She's all made up and smiling like she's a queen, or a princess. This I decide to take a little issue with due to her age. Let's say she's upside of 50, from what I hear later it's not her first wedding, and she's wearing white. I know she's not a virgin, disgustingly enough I know that. I look at her and thing 'isn't she too old to try and act like she's a princess at her own wedding anymore?' I've been to weddings for grown adults, I was in one, yeah, they looked happy, insanely happy, just not like how they imagine when they're a little kid imagining their wedding. I also think she's too old to be wearing a backless dress, but that's neither here nor there.

We get to the ceremony. Throughout it, I'm wondering what the presiding priest is saying to make them laugh throughout the wedding, but whatever. It's wrong to me every time they say 'Patricia' and the first time it's said I feel that something isn't right. That simply stems from my mother's name having been 'Patricia', she on the other hand hated to be called 'Patty' or any spelling of it, so I could deal with Pattie being called as such. Going through the vows and ceremony and shit I have to start tuning out. I start singing songs in my head to keep my composure. I still am irritated with this because I don't think my father has what it takes to stay married. He may prove me wrong, I don't know, but the vows of longevity and staying together have been broken twice with him. I wonder if they mean anything to him anymore.

I had my usual grievances with being in a Catholic church. The call and response crap, I don't know what to say, I'm not fucking Catholic, like how I'm not fucking Irish [that journal's on LJ] I just dismiss it like I did when I was younger and was forced to go. Huh, go figure, my first time going to a church in the past 2 years was for a wedding, before that, it was for a funeral.

The reception took forever and a day to get to, but there was an open bar. I didn't get drunk, but I did have a LI Iced Tea that was pretty killer. The lunch, was alright, it was really small and I hadn't eaten since 11 the previous night so I wanted food. No real issues with the reception, I was impressed with the MCs Spanish abilities, but I guess he was chosen just for that. The music was a combination of Spanish things and old Motown music. You'd think my father would run out of love songs about the longevity of marriage because he's had to failed marriages to date.

Thinking about it now, I don't know how I feel about the institution of marriage. They say that kids froma single parent household are quick to get married, but that's something that neither of my brother's nor I have really even thought about doing. Yeah, Miguel has a girlfriend, but they've been together for 2 years or so, I haven't heard a tittering about getting married, but I also make it my business to not be around them too much.

The only thing that really came out of this whole sham for me was being able to see my family that I rarely see. And I got to see my sister. I don't think much of this wedding. I doubt the two of them will have kids, my father is still paying my med. insurance, and has to pay child support to Debra I assume, but who knows, he's done stupid things in the past.

Jasmine P.