We do not know why, when we think of them, we feel of a sudden that the earth is good and that it is not a burden to live.
And that night we knew that to hold the body of women in our arms is neither ugly nor shameful, but the one ecstasy granted to the race of men.
We go on and we bless the earth under our feet.
We looked into each other’s eyes and we knew that the breath of a miracle had touched us, and fled, and left us groping vainly.
Me: “I need you to know that I am not a Mac person. I find the Apple company elitist and it’s products overly complicated and finicky. I’m a Windows Vista girl myself with a tough-love, brute-force approach to computer troubles. If my computer freezes, I unplug it and take out the battery. Which explains why I was less than thrilled when I recently became the proud owner of a MacBookPro and an iTouch.”
Rep: “Uhhhhh.”
Me: “It also explains why I ruined my new laptop within minutes of starting it up. The only Apple products I’ve ever owned have been the simplest of simple: iPod Shuffles. And I even had trouble with those. They were constantly getting corrupted for no apparent reason and needing to be reset. Your products are not hardy, they are not consistent, or easy to use. This explains why I had to wait weeks to get this appointment. Because everyone else and their mother with an iPod can’t work the damn thing and needs to come in and see you. Frankly, I think it’s a racket to sell a bunch of personal help hours to people who don’t have a degree in modern computer sciences who unwittingly buy your products.”
Rep: “Well—”
Me: “You should also know that if it were up to me, I’d still have that Dell Inspiron that I bought three years ago and was stolen a few months back. Unfortunately, I am not paying the bills, that would be my neurotic, research-happy father who lives and dies by the word of Mac who was seduced by all the well-placed marketing to students. Your company is really very crafty. And it’s kind of ironic. When I was searching my emails to find the One to One membership number he sent me, I actually read the part where he advised me not to try to set up the computer by myself, to just take it straight to you. Funny how we never listen to our parents until it’s too late.”
Rep: “You know…”
Me: “I really only agreed to get a Mac because I heard it was the best for design and hopefully I will be getting the Adobe Creative Suite soon. But I won’t be able to install it unless you can get this disc that I got stuck in there out. Which is why I’m here.”
Rep: Silence
Me: “I really hate your products.”
Pick-ups are the only way to travel.
I’m putting miles in between me and the person I was with him. A movie by myself, that’s a mile. A nighttime run, that’s a mile. Dancing with friends, cheap manicures, cooking dinner, working on my tan, reading a book, climbing temples, driving boats, talking to strangers, paying it forward and asking for it back, saving myself, all miles. College, several miles. Meal plans and housing assignments and orientation and AP credits, all put miles in between me and the old me. Literally thousands. I never want to be that meek and mild girl who woke up with his hands around her throat. Who always refused to snort his cocaine. Who always gave it up just to avoid a fight. Who had to tell him to put the gun away.
He didn’t know anything about me. He didn’t know my brothers’ and sisters’ names, or that I even had any. He didn’t know the name of my school, or that I had been on the newspaper there. He didn’t know I speak French and love languages. He didn’t know my favorite band or favorite color or favorite place. He didn’t know about my social justice work and wouldn’t have supported it. Nothing.
It was exciting, in a way. I could be whoever I wanted. I could make myself up and spin a pretend personality. But the disguise of a submissive, weak girl was too exhausting to keep up. Because no matter what happened, no matter what I did or what I let him do to me, I am a strong woman. I always will be. And no one will ever abuse me again.
Every time I tell someone what I went through, that’s a mile. This entry is a mile.
Please keep Haiti in your thoughts.
To free myself from things that tatter my soul.
To become complete, in and of myself.
To believe in love again.
I’m tired of hearing I’m so young, that just wait, I’ll learn/grow/figure it out, I have my whole life ahead of me. You’re just terrified and you’re using my age as a weak excuse. But the thing is, I don’t have my whole life ahead of me. Everything can change in an instant and meanwhile, tengo que obedecer a mi corazon. And you can’t just keep waiting for tomorrow because what if you wake up and it didn’t come this time?
Far Away - Ingrid Michaelson
