Sunday, June 26, 2011

Home

It's been a while, My lovelies! I tried to write about a week ago, upon my return from New York City, but was so bogged up with emotions and excitement, it was like a huge taxi traffic jam from my brain to my fingertips.

And it still kind of is.

I'm still processing everything that went on during my 8 day stay, which is why you will have to be patient with me, since I don't know if I can even go there yet.

I'm not terribly good at beating around the bush, so I WILL talk about one event that changed me in New York.


The Alexander McQueen retrospective show at the Met was flooring. This show is nothing like what I expected. It has almost nothing to do with fashion, in conventional speak, most of the time. The pieces in this show ride that gorgeous line that only visual art can do in a certain way, a way true to its unique form. What I saw in McQueen is an embracing, visually speaking, of clashes. There is a quote in the show by him where he says "I oscillate between life and death, happiness and sadness, good and evil". I guess it was the word "oscillate" that stuck out to me, since I picture a consistent returning to and from that which he mentioned. This is a fine line to translate into work. To convey this message, a message which is anything but new (c'mon... we ALL know opposites exist in human nature..) in a way that was so surprising, so creatively tragic, so delicately said, was beyond moving for me. There is a twistedness to his work, a severe sense of reflection. There is armor bound by lace, metal cast into seashells, horns made as crowns. All of these, to me, symbols of so many human emotions and paradoxes. Like worn poetry. To think this work is just clothing is somewhat perverse.

A reinvention of something already said many times is one of the hardest parts of creativity, but it is the bed from which it must be born. There is something so wonderful about people knowing that tragedy and beauty coexist, and that this relationship is constantly being revisited, reinvented, re-fabricated, re-listened, re-enlisted. It is a binding force that is constantly transformed. I could not help but walk through the exhibit with my friend Erica in tears due to the knowledge that this creative soul has since passed.

Another thing I was opened up to in seeing this show was the joy that New Yorkers took in going to experience it. What do I mean? Well, one could easily walk through this show and say it had an S&M quality to it. Or that it wasn't very PRETTY. Or a roll of eyes that you "could never actually WEAR any of this stuff...sheesh!". Or that it didn't make sense, which would be the most understandable of all these conditions. But New York LOVES this show!! The Met had to extend its duration for 3 extra months! They had to open on Mondays just to accommodate the crowds of interested viewers !! I LOVE THIS!!!! I love that people want to put themselves through this, that they are in touch with what McQueen is trying to get at!!!! They want the ugly, the pretty, the sad, the triumphant! What a wonderful thing!! To forget about oneself by being completely enraptured in someones vision, only to make you see your own again! People WANT this! Victory for expression!!!

Ok, that was WAY too many exclamation marks. phew.... sorry. I'm not big on emoticon smiley faces, but man do I make it up with exclamation marks sometimes. Rein it in, Mia.

!!!!!!!!!!!

:) :) :) :0


ok.


so. Why the title Home? There is a stupid old phrase, "home is where the heart is." Just as many clichés that I hear most of my life, I never really stop to think about what they mean. With this one, I think to myself, "yeah, like your home is wherever you love people... blah blah, and wherever the people closest to you are, blah blah, oh and maybe some sort of spiritual home in there somewhere, like where you feel good, blah blah...." and then I move on.

BUT! But! AHA.. this is when I realize that these dumb old over-used clichés actually MEAN something.

So, Home. Hmm. Well, in light of the fact that I revisited the place where I was born last week, it got me thinking. Maybe that is my home.? But it's not, since I don't live there anymore, right? Or maybe home is wherever I reside today... the airport area of Atlanta?? Really? Home? hmm. Maybe not either. And I'm moving out (again), so it was never really home in the first place. Maybe home is where my parents are? But one lives in Miami, one here, and I love them equally, but I don't think I can have TWO homes, so nope. Maybe home is where I am most comfortable? Well, it's been quite a while since I've been actually comfortable, really, so I don't think it's that either. wait wait... home is where the man I love is. Well, that love isn't right here right now, so I guess that's not it either. I don't have a place seeped in tradition like some people, so that's an obvious out.

So where the hell is home??

Ok, you are probably reading this and rolling your eyes, "dummy... you shouldn't have started the paragraph with the answer..". Ok, so I'm not bright most of the time. I've been moving so much lately. I hop from one place to another. I'm in an apartment in Chattanooga, in my mom's house, in a loft, in another house, maybe in another state in the near future. This is a lot to process. I'm in a transient time, physically, in my life. I'm house sitting, I'm constantly on the road. It's enough to make me a little dizzy, actually. But just when I am about to loose it all and get totally crazy by all the movement, all the tasks, all the decisions, all the things I need to do, a little voice in my head has finally started to kick in. A little voice that has been there for, well, forever, but has been kind of shy in speaking up.

"You are your home"

And this makes the knots go away. It makes all the dizziness, all the disgruntled drives away from what I want to be doing otherwise settle down. I am my home. Mia The Snail, if you will. See, my dear friend Erica, in all of her wisdom, told me something when I moved in to my latest apartment. I was scared. I have this weird fear of being alone sometimes. I guess it's not weird at all. I always wish I could be alone when I'm being pulled by everyone, but when I actually have to face more than a week of being alone, I'm terrified. And now I live and work alone??? Holy crap. That's a lot of, well, ME time. Yikes.

But Erica said it best. "You can choose to make your place your own hell or your own sanctuary". And she's right. When I look at all the places I live, they are mostly sanctuaries, a fact that I never realized. I was sad to leave Italy because I loved it. I was sad to leave Chattanooga because I loved it. I'm sad to leave my little lonely loft by the airport because I love it. So wow. I make little temples all over the place for myself. So why can't I believe that I am one of those too?? Sure, sh#&*t hits the fan sometimes. It's inevitable. We react the way we do because it's all we can do. But that moment, you know that moment... when you come home from work, and you plop down in some comfy place and veg out for a little bit and just relax.... why can't that little room, that little couch just be inside of you? Then you ALWAYS have a place to crash, a place to land, a safe spot. It never moves on you. The lease never lets out. The contract never expires. Ok sure, it's messy sometimes. You forgot to take out the trash. The dog barfed on your shoes (you are your own dog TOO you know..). You hate the color of your couch. BUT it's there. It's all there waiting for you. In your head, in your heart.

Right?


Was that just TOO new-agey???

Who knows. It's just what I feel. And I'm totally grateful for it, whatever (wherever) happens.