Look At Me
Posted on 20 April 2010
Friday night, I had the distinct discomfort of watching a recording of my friends and me from twenty years ago. We video taped it over the course of two nights, in one of our basements, during Thanksgiving break of 1989.
Our crowd was a little unusual. Maybe geeky, kind of. There were at least two references to Star Trek and something about a hobbit, but I swear no one uttered “D&D,” so it’s somewhat questionable.
There’s this thing about me, this thing about anyone who aspires to write, to make art, to perform. There’s a way of relating to the world through public acts. And I noticed that though I hid my face and took great pains to act as if I didn’t want to be seen, I never took a turn behind the camera.
I need to be able to watch myself, I need to see myself, no matter that it’s twenty years later, in a way that doesn’t lie. The video is an education for me in how twenty years can pass and not change a person’s core, an education in who I was and am and a reminder of the reasons I became this person.
I watched myself hinting at the mild abuse I’d suffered, in a subtle but nonetheless transparent way. I suppose, though it’s taken me this long to understand it, that I thought I couldn’t be loved, I could only be pitied. That if I could make people feel sorry for me, they would love me. That I had no qualities of my own to recommend me, but only events that would tug heartstrings enough to earn me a kiss, a lover for a time.
I spend my days now fitting words together in ways that make music, but also convey meaning. Sometimes, though, the music is overpowering and the truth can get lost.
Here is what I know:
I can be a better person than what I saw there. I don’t have to perform, to put on the “poor terrible childhood girl” show. In fact, it’s time to leave it behind, except the parts that make good stories, because really – they’re pretty damn funny.
There are ways to say what needs to be said –I love you, I’m angry, I hurt, help me –without screaming for attention, without a writing a script and putting myself in front of the metaphorical camera.
When my boyfriend at the time was videotaping, he said all he needed to in the way he lingered on my face, my hands. When he filmed his best friend, he was loving him so much it made my heart ache. It makes me wonder why I’ve needed such grand gestures to believe what has always been true.
I’m no less worthy than any of the people in this video who, all these years later, still fill my heart, my soul with love.
4 responses to Look At Me
You have been reviewed, my duck.
Oh….I can SO relate to this post as I reflect on my own past and see all the ways the deep girl in me has changed. Even today, so much of me feels awkward and raw as continue to peel back the layers that need to be seen…this is such lovely writing.
Ah, now this is the type of writing I enjoy. Clear, concise prose – elegant, simple words that nevertheless convey complex emotions, thoughts, human experiences that the reader can identify with.
Above all, it is ‘honest’ writing – the simple unadorned truth (as you see it to be).
There is no ludicrous affectation that less talented, less worldly-wise folk oft-times adopt in an attempt to persuade the reader that they are worthy to pass comment on the work of writers more gifted than themselves
great post as usual!