Saturday, March 19, 2005


I figured out what was going on right now with me was this struggle to keep my identity in the face of being pregnant. Everything I've read lately has either been in the goo-goo-ga-ga pink and blue mommy school, or the materialistic, class-conscious, nanny and million dollar uptown co-op mommy school.

I am neither. I want to be neither. I'm a jazz-hippie-punk-poet. I was raised this way. I was raised chanting buddhist prayers and listening to jazz and painting and writing, poor as dirt, but never poverty stricken, well educated, well read, creative open minded. My whole life I've been-- not a "hipster," that's a new thing and a lot more about being cool, but an actual bohemian. And I don't mean neo-luxe-boho, like in Vogue magazine. How can you be a bohemian and spend a thousand bucks on your jeans?

And here I am indulging in labels...

I don't want to be put in a box. Maybe I've been feeling the pressure to fit into some corner of society, now that I'm becoming a mother. You know, you have to be responsible. You have to drive a volvo. It's scary, because I don't even know how to drive. There's no place in my life for Talbots. (I got a catalogue in the mail. It asked "what kind of classic are you?" I found it all too polished, too conservative, bland, boring. I guess I'm no kind of classic. [I'm back on the labels...])

Why shouldn't it be possible to stay who you are and become a mother? Why do we always want things so easily definable? We can't all be June Cleaver. I think we've come to the conclusion that June Cleaver wasn't June Cleaver. Now we've moved on to "SuperMom."

I still wan't to be an artist. I still want to be a writer. I still have a pierced eyebrow and a tattoo. I'd like more tatoos. I feel like I'm being judged for the life I want to live. I feel like some of my friends want me to go back to being a teacher because it's secure. Does it matter if it was crushing my soul? Does it matter if I was pouring my heart out into helping my kids, and leaving nothing for me, for what I wanted to do in my life, for my art?

I don't know what's going to happen. I know things will change utterly. I'm okay with that, but that doesn't mean I have to transform into a yuppie or a guppie. ("Guppie?" I don't know, it rhymed. Kinda gives the impression of something soft and mushy. Goo-goo-ga-ga? I'm going with it.) Maybe I can be a bohemian mama. Why not? My mom was. Maybe I can be a jazz-hippie-punk-poet mama. I like the idea.

Hmm... maybe I can toss out all the labels all together... I don't know.. just be? Kind of spooky.

Like life, huh?

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