Wednesday, September 12, 2007

I was listening to this song this morning

on my ipod, while I brushed my teeth, put my make-up on
it sung so sweetly into me,
I wanted to glide across it
the flow of feeling
like skating,
so free

The Face of a Faith
by Nellie Mckay

You are the light I follow
You are the face of a faith I love
Oh my darling believe in me

You are the hymn I cover
You are the king of an indian dove
Oh my darling the fever in me
I wait for a while, I know
But I let it go, yes I let it go
My fear is gone

You are the hope I cherish
You are the care of a prayer I love
Oh my darling believe in me
In me

Believe in me

It may seem odd to put my face with this. But I have my reasons.
I'm trying to see more when I look into me.
Physically, emotionally, mentally.
To hold more hope in who I am, in my abilities
See farther, and with a deep believing heart.
Rather than with an eye and mind to break things apart.

yep that is pretty much what I look like. I took it in the bathroom (not that you need to know that) I'm pulling my hair back that is why it isn't this great mass all around me. I told you I wasn't sleeping well. My head isn't usually that shiny either, and my lips usually look smaller, and my nose...dear me my angle I could get.
oh, yeah, that would be breaking things apart.
Breaking me apart.

Believe in me

( I have to say it is a little bit stressful having my photo up, I keep coming back and rethinking it, we'll see if I can leave it here. Or not)


Vesper said...

Very nice seeing you, Taffiny!
Beautiful poetry, yours and the song's...

Taffiny said...

Thank you for visiting.

I don't know if I shall stay (visually stay, or not).

On the one hand, there is the urge to claim oneself, to be revealed for better or worse. Standing fully in my own words, and skin.
On the other hand, there is the desire to just exist as words, to be thoughts, ideas, emotions, pictures and daydreams, to create a space for myself where my physical self is irrelvant.

There is more freedom in being anonymous. (and I like that freedom)

To reveal, to conceal.

It is easier to show the features of my personality in all sorts of lighting, from different angles, than it is my physical form.
So I feel that tension. And part of me says, that is why I should show this part of myself too, because it is uncomfortable, and part of me says that is why I shouldn't.

Of course much like the soup, it is inconsequential. But emotions swirl around the act.

Amy said...

Taffiny, Thanks for our "chat" on my blog about death. I enjoyed and felt understood by your comments. I wondered, watching the only 10 minutes I could bear of the 9/11 ceremonies, how those familes can let go and move on, with those strong yearly reminders. It's so true what you said about forgetting the deatils of a funeral and remembering life instead. All your writing these days is so poetic with beautiful imagery and pure emotion. I loved seeing your face. I actually thought it was interesting that 2 or 3 of the blogs I follow have pictures from the back or side. vs. the front. You could do some deep self-analysis as to why it's easier to expose your emotional side than your physical looks. For so many, it is just the opposite! When I read the title under the picture I thought the image was of an elegant singer, until I got further down your post. You look great, I vote for leaving it up. It won't be so prominent whenyou ad other posts and then it passes into the past posts file.
I have a question for you. Where do you live? It's funny how that has become an insight into how people act and react since I've been in Europe.
"See" you soon, Amy

Wanderlust Scarlett said...

So THAT'S Taffiny!
Pretty girl.

I like the song too!

Scarlett & Viaggiatore

Taffiny said...

Hi. No, I wish, but THANK YOU for saying it just the same. :)

Amy- I enjoyed our chat too, thanks. I watched Oprah on 9/11, it was about some of the children who had lost parents to the events of that day. And they said, how hard it is for them, with all the media images bringing that day back (full force) into their minds/hearts each year. (Later I understood this was true for you as well).

Thanks for being so generous in your assesment of my blog, and for being glad to see me :) !

I follow some blogs with faces, and some without, and I have realized that I do like seeing people's faces. The avatar ( that is what those little pictures are called, right?) becomes my symbol for that person, so I picture them as that picture. Scarlett flies around the world in a white drapey chair thing, wearing black. ( I have wondered if mine combined with my writing would have a reader imagining Cousin It gardening)
(and making bad soup).

****You best had not mentioned self analysis-as I know you certainly did not mean for me to do it here- but it seems as though I have- I did not intend to go on and on so- It is a bit mucky and yucky down there, don't bother going in unless you've got high rubber boots on (a purse full of patience, and possibly an umbrella)*****

It may not take deep analysis to understand why I have more trouble with showing my face. At 13, I clearly recall having been barked at. And in high shool, one lovely girl (whom I had never met before that moment), sat next to me in the auditorium, on a very rainy morning as we waited for first bell to ring; she kept inquiring if I was really my brother's sister, because she could not believe that I was (as he was voted sexiest senior, was popular, attractive). "But you can't be!" "You must be adopted."
"No, I'm not" I said calmly, matter of factly.
"He is your step brother then?"
It went on and on like that, with her continually incredulous.
Of course there are other such memories, but you get the idea. I've got issues with tissues, regarding my face. (I know everyone gets teased about something, that I am overly sensitive, and tend to internalize things that I shouldn't. I just don't know how not to be so sensitive; how not to internalize.)

On my blog, I want people to imagine I am better looking than I am. But that also bothers me (hello shallow), I shouldn't care about that. The questions around showing photos bring up issues- Should I put on full make-up, line my lips bigger than they are, taking the best angle, because I do want people to think I can be attractive? Or do I show myself in harsher light, revealing harsher features, those that I cringe when I see, because they are me (in a way a truer me.)? Or do I show myself over and over again in whatever light I am in (like I do with my words). (many photos-wouldn't that make me look egocentric?) (is/isn't a blog by its very nature egocentic anyway? Well no, but self-centric probably)

Already I feel embarrassed by my words. There are so many wonderful things in life, and also so much sorrow, that I would spend any time or energy wrapped up in wishing I was pretty is wasterful. Shameful. It is vain, not the sort of vanity that admires itself, but the kind that wishes it could be admired.
( I am healthy, I have a family, we have food, clothing, shelter, my heart should just be of gratitude. I should be so full, that other petty things don't creep, seep in. But they do)
Seven years ago, I was several weeks away from having surgery to fix my nose (it is big, dented, wonky. I could easily show this to you, but I don't want you to see), but I panicked, 1 in every 250,000 dies in general anesthesia, I thought that was too high a risk for cosmetic surgery, too high for me, too high for my son. So I cancelled, but occasionally I do still think about getting it done. Other times I get good and mad, that I have allowed myself to sit and judge myself, my face, by some standard presented to me, by the media, to market things, to get me to never feel ok as I am, to buy to buy to buy. And on those days, when I see my face from a hard angle, hair wild and frizzy, I defiantly say "yes that is me. This is what people look like". And I want to claim her, and love her, though she is not delicate, feminine and pretty, for she is real, and I am so happy to be here, and she is the only body I have, she is my home.
I try and convince myself that I am ok with my face (grant me grace to face my face), just the way it is, that it doesn't matter anyway, and mostly I don't think about it, I just go about my days, my life. But that is why showing you this part of me, is quite like opening up a can of worms.

I guess it is easier to show myself through words, because I don't mind revealing the unattractive things that are there as much, because I know there is beauty inside me too, ( I can see it even if others can't) with my face...
I guess it is, I don't compare my soul to other people's, wonder if it is good enough (it is too hard to see people clearly and know them, and we change and grow through-out our lives). I may bore people horribly, but I don't concern myself too much if that is there judgement of me, but my face even if I manage not to judge it with an external standard, that standard is what I assume other people see it through. I don't want my body judged through that standard. I want to be shielded.

Just so you know, I don't spend my time obsessing about my looks ( I mean who cares? I wouldn't make better pea soup if I was prettier), I am fine day in and day out with me, it is just when some evil person has taken pictures and shows me several of me, that I get upset, she doesn't look the way I like to believe I look. I am often shocked. ( I have taken more pictures with video and iphoto lately in an effort to get more used to my still image. But my abilility to be ok with it depends on the individual photo). The photo I chose here was a good one. It was real enough, but it was a better angle for the nose. It is a disgrace that I should place such importance on my face. And waste my time and this space writing about my face.

Well after all that whiny piney, I would feel better with you not knowing where I am, but..I'm tucked away in PA.