So lately, I’ve been thinking

A dangerous pastime, I know.

But I’ve been thinking about what I want. Now, that’s always a loaded subject for me. I’ve always been told I was smart enough for anything, but I’ve never felt motivated enough for everything.

I was looking at videos by MALINDA, aka Translator Fails, and there’s one vlog from a few years ago that sort of resonated with me.

I don’t want to be extraordinary.

I don’t find myself wanting to be that as much as just being remembered. If I get to help people the way I want to, I hope I can make enough of an impact that they remember me years later. I want to be seen, not by the world, but by the people who need it.

And I just hope I can be a light in some people’s lives, the way I wish somebody had been mine.

The right way to be introspective (yes, there’s a wrong way)

“So when it comes to developing internal self-awareness, I like to use a simple tool that I call What Not Why. Why questions can draw us to our limitations; what questions help us see our potential. Why questions stir up negative emotions; what questions keep us curious. Why questions trap us in our past; what questions help us create a better future. In addition to helping us gain insight, asking what instead of why can be used to help us better understand and manage our emotions.”

20

when i am older, i used to think,

i would turn into someone else.

like a caterpillar’s metamorphosis,

pulling me out of myself.

but what is fate if not predestined;

a novel if not read;

a life if not lived; or

a tree if not heard?

dust creaks in my bones,

piling up in untouched fairy tales.

the girl who lived happily ever after

lies buried beneath my fingernails.

if the girl in the tale lived now,

forgoing her finished story;

the pages of the book would flip open,

her words in bloody allegory.

she doesn’t bite the apple.

she doesn’t hide in the woods.

she doesn’t run from the castle.

she stands in the throne room.

the clock hits midnight;

the bells start ringing;

a wanted poster is put up,

saying cinderella’s gone missing.

land beckons like a siren,

but the ocean’s call is sweeter.

a trident is hefty in her grip,

and a crown is heavy on her head.

if aurora could choose, maybe

she wouldn’t be born at all.

because what’s a life worth living

if you know how you fall?

now i dip my hands into the silt,

beneath the surface of the river.

then you drag me from the water,

and time trickles between my fingers.

one of my greatest fears is being left alone

but growing old comes a second close.

Is this my trauma?

I was up at 3 in the morning after a heavy conversation with my best, pouring forth my unfiltered thoughts and gutting my heart on paper the stream of consciousness of a deaf, black male who has to balance those two predominant spheres (along with being queer) while battling the never ending introspective thoughts that constantly make me question my self worth and whether or not my friends are REALLY my friends, or just people who pity me and are being polite while I misread all of their cues and tones, all the while addressing the fact that I have avoided confronting the real issue that my disability is an obstacle when it comes to building genuine (ergo, romantic) relationships, while people won’t actually SAY it….we all know it’s there, and it’s great that I’m like this “AMAZINGWONDERFULGENUINETALENTEDFUNNY” guy, but I’m still “too deaf,” “too black,” “too intimidating.” And internalizing THIS message, this stream of consciousness, in a way that people cannot look at me and go, “Nah, you’re being a #paranoidminority” or “you’re #attentionseeking and #playingthevictim” because we are often taught that our experiences are invalid. That it’s all in our heads. But it’s me holding up a portrait of myself that contains fragments belonging to different places while not fully belonging anywhere.

I’m not asking for pity or your opinion. There isn’t a right or wrong. It’s just me. My experiences as the results of biology and fucked up circumstances and being a clusterfuck of star stuff.

Yeah that’s my headspace.

My dog lies on the grass in front of me. He’s flat on his back, his floppy ears are splayed out, his tail is wagging and he has a bright orange tennis ball in his mouth.

He looks ridiculous. Something my dog is very good at.

Yet, as I look down at him I have the sudden realization that somewhere, maybe as little as a hundred generations down the line, his fore-parents were wolves. The same animals which even today trigger fear in some primal part of our hearts.

It’s the same with my co-worker’s chihuahuas. The little yappy creatures charging up the driveway to try and drive off my car, and whom I could probably pick up and throw like a football, are descended from wolves.

Okay, they were probably runty cowering wolves who followed the camps of hunter-gatherers around and ate garbage, but wolves none the less. Wolves, who over time and generations would become the tiny little animal charging up towards me as if it were still a six foot tall apex predator, instead of the coyote equivalent of a quick snack.

If you have ever seen a wolf in the flesh, you will realize that this is quite a shocking change. You certainly wouldn’t confuse any of the dogs I’ve had over my lifetime with a wolf. Yet, the fact that domesticated dogs are descended from wolves is more or less solidly proven. They’re not some less-aggressive canid we’ve tamed, nor some hybrid that was easier to manage.

Dogs came from wolves, and it is quite the remarkable transformation. Moreover, dogs were our first success in domesticating other animals. Most genetic and archeological evidence suggests that dogs are the oldest domesticated animal. They predate sheep and goats by a significant margin, and even agriculture itself by at least a few thousand years. We’ve had a lot of time to shape them, both passively and actively.

And really, the ancient alchemists were wasting their time trying to turn lead into gold. Humanity had much greater success turning wolves into dogs, and what a transmutation it was. While no one can deny the similarities between a dog and a wolf, they are also two very different things to most humans. Someone brings are wolf into your car, you do not say “Oh yeah, that’s a huge dog.” You say “No, that’s a fucking wolf.”

Wolves and dogs have become two different animals, both in behaviour, appearance, and their place in regards to humans. Whether they are vermin, livestock, or loved pets, a dog will always be something different than a wolf.

As my dog lies there on the grass, belly up, tail wagging, bright orange tennis ball in its mouth, happily waiting for me to scratch its belly. It’s a very weird and stark realization that his ancestors were wolves.

Somebody called me an introvert presenting extrovert today and I’m like ???? is that a thing ???? I don’t think it’s a thing ???? but why does it sound like a thing ????

mysaphotography:

©Mysa Photography (Venice | San Francisco) #mysaphotography #portrait photography

2020 // Brooklyn, New York.