The rest...

"Just write about what bites you and damn the rest."

- Jonathan Carroll

This blog is the last in a long history of blogs for me. I started out writing a little blog called Pixie Has Fight a little over six years ago. In starting out a new, fresh and shiny blog, I decided to go back through all the other public diaries I've had to suss out where I was and who I've become.

Let me tell you, it's been an eye opener.

Nearly six years ago, I wrote this:

"Hands in the air. I'm tired of having to defend my own opinions and being told their wrong. You're pro-life. Fine. But don't you dare fucking tell me how to live MY life. Don't get an abortion. But stay the HELL out of my uterus. Don't tell me I'm a hypocrite because I'm for animal rights, and a vegetarian, but want choice. Fuck you."

Wow. Let's dissect, shall we? I am absolutely still pro-choice. Strongly. Unwaveringly. But I wouldn't chose to express myself like that now. I've simmered like a fine wine and now I'm able to stop, think and pick my words wisely. I may still fillet you like that, but it'll be subtle. I've come a long way.

After that blog, I wrote one called Sexual Anarchism. I was living in an off again/on again BDSM with my ex-fiance and we wrote about day to day life. I won't share anything from that blog, as it's pretty graphic and also very personal (not to mention I don't have his permission to share it), but that was a whole other side of me that I don't act on much these days either. Reading through the archives, I found it difficult to even get in that head space. Who was I? Why did I think that way? What made me crave those things? I can't understand 22 year old Melle any more than I can understand 28 year old Melle. I guess some things don't change.

Decorus Poena came next, a place I stayed for nearly three years. It was my slow slide out of BDSM and into me, writing about what turned me on and who I was at the same time. It's still online but, I will warn you, there are some explicit pictures. If you don't want to know me that well, I strongly recommend you not looking it up. *laugh*

I wrote a bit more in a blog called Irrational Beauty, but it dropped off after that. Myspace posts, journaling on my own. I was burnt out from the constant pressure of having to produce, having people read every word I say and criticize and judge me. It was hard to be in the public eye, so I chose not to.

But now, I think I'm ready again. I'm settled, grounded. Happy. I have so much going on that's good in my life that I need the outlet to vent. I'm ready to open my miraculous cabinet and let the contents settle where they will.

And, to quote the amazing Carroll, I'm going to write about what bites me and damn the rest. 

Quotes.

"I love quotations because it is a joy to find thoughts one might have, beautifully expressed with much authority by someone recognized wiser than oneself."


-Marlene Dietrich

I should start by explain that I'm kind of a quote slut. I can liken everything to some obscure quotation I heard when I was 7 years old or a paragraph from that dog-eared Winterson novel I keep in the glove compartment of my car and have read nearly one hundred times. My brain is like an intellectual fly trap - the things that matter go in on ear and out the other but the other things, song lyrics and quotations, are there for the ride.

It's just that quotes say so much about a moment in time. Quotes, to me, are like hearing that song from 7th grade that just takes you back. I can remember where I was when I read it, what I was feeling and how it hit me. 

Some days, though, I feel like a hack using other people's words to describe my feelings. I'm a creature of sensation and I get really wrapped up in feeling what's going on, letting it wash over me like waves in the ocean, and I can't.... quite... place the feeling into words. It's there, it is, and only later do I find that specific formation of words from someone else's lips that *BAM* hits me in the gut.

Forming my own voice, trusting my own take on the subject, is far more difficult for me. I've dropped off writing lately, as it's been overwhelmed by the mundane and far less satisfactory parts of life. But I'm back now and hoping to develop my own quotations, my own style, my own expression. 

It's an exciting and terrifying undertaking. 

Welcome.

"Your head's like mine, like all our heads; big enough to contain every god and devil there ever was. Big enough to hold the weight of the oceans and the turning stars. Whole universes fit in there! But what do we choose to keep in this miraculous cabinet? Little broken things, sad trinkets that we play with over and over. The world turns our key and we play the same little tune again and again and we think that tune's all we are."


- Grant Morrison