Today I ponder jealousy. Have you ever been jealous? Duh. Of course you have! All of us have. It’s as natural as breathing. Right? We’re human, and with that comes myriad emotions. And jealousy comes in many forms, but I’m talking more “romanticly-infused” jealousy. In fact, jealousy has almost even been romanticized, especially in literature. In our writing and/or reading, depending on which camp you’re in, we love bouts of jealousy with our characters. Don’t we? My books are filled with them! Love triangles we call them. We root for our heroine to get “her man” back from the snarling grips of some nemesis. Or we revel in the angsty ups and downs of the romance trope, the break-ups, the make-ups, “I hate you, I love you,” as Taylor Swift croons. Without tension and build up and conflict, why read the story, right? Rollercoaster of emotions if you will. Thrilling, but safe from the confines of our safe and comfy beds, under covers, lamp lit as we lick our finger to turn the page or swipe our across the tablet screen. But in real life, it’s not always so neatly resolved. Sometimes it’s nothing: We might get twinges of envy that fade quickly, shaken off with a wave of the hand that says: This is silly. Stop it. Other times, it can be downright debilitating, causing our actions to be ridiculous, irrational even, especially in matters of the heart. And then there is every nuanced hue in between. Jealousy needn’t always be a bad thing either. It helps us, maybe, to keep things in perspective, to never take what we have or want for granted, to never become complacent. It can even keep a relationship fresh and exciting. Without any at all, it might even become stale or boring. No jealousy ever, and you wonder if your lover has any emotion in him. But if unchecked, it can be a monster, yes that “green-eyed monster which doth mock/The meat it feeds on.” Love triangles and the like happen in real life, they’re not so fun, are they? Yes. There are some people who thrive on this kind of drama, who almost always seem to find themselves in the middle of things they shouldn’t be over and over. But they are not common. At least I like to hope they’re not. But some of us have been there, without trying, without even knowing sometimes. And it gets ugly. Fast. It can even turn obsessive, and that’s not good. Are you constantly “checking up” on someone? Scrolling their status or trying to see who/what/when/why/how they’ve interacted with someone? Extreme jealousy stems from extreme insecurity and that is where we must pause and self reflect. That is simply not healthy. What’s really horrible is when you are on the end of jealousy. Someone is somehow jealous of you, and you have no idea why. Perhaps it causes them to lash out in both visible ways and duplicitous ways. Remember John Knowles’ A Separate Peace? Gene was so jealous, he “jounced the limb” of his best friend, which ultimately led to his death. Yes. Jealousy can do that. Sometimes around social media, we even see it among authors. The 1-star review perhaps or the “drama” and bashing I can see. We, too, even see it between friends, like the characters from A Separate Peace, the biggest cut of all. When you become the victim of someone else’s unchecked jealousy, it can lead to devastating consequences. Blame is placed on you for things out of your control. Someone’s boyfriend flirts with you or “likes” you, and somehow it's your fault. I never understand, speaking from the female perspective, but of course, it can be any combination, how when someone’s "eye roams," it’s the “girl’s” fault, never the man’s. That somehow it doesn’t take two to tango and falls on the sole shoulder of the woman the man decided to show attention to. One plus one equals two. Basic math here folks. One plus one does not equal one.
So I leave you with this. I challenge us as human beings to stop and think about where our jealousy comes from. If you’re an overly jealous person, your actions probably reflect that. It’s not attractive. And it stems from deep insecurities, most assuredly past experiences that have colored you this way. But we must live in the present. We need to be the best possible version of ourselves we can be right now. And while we may love the color green as a dress on our bodies or a pair of Converse on our feet, it’s the not the only color in the universe. If it is, perhaps it’s time to open the 120 colors of your crayon box again. After all, life it too short to limit ourselves to one shade of color. We’re much more colorful than that. And we owe it to ourselves and others to paint our worlds with who we know we can be.
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I’m pondering, today, like many days, life and death and relationships and the rush of trying to accomplish everything in 24 hours and for what, besides a tear in our nylons? (Okay. I don't wear nylons, but I do wear tights! I'm being metaphoric here. ;) ) What are we exactly rushing about for? How many of you can relate to THAT? While in the grocery store checkout line, my mind drifted to my mom and a poem poured out of me and onto the note pad on my phone. And after I wrote it, I thought back to an older post I wrote, about the way I’ve always been compelled to write this way, this stream-of-consciousness way, even in the weirdest of places: I was the girl who always read and who carried her notebook with her everywhere to jot down things she observed: the woman smoking with her coat pulled tight against herself in the cold wind; the shy teenage boy glancing at me from under his long bangs, fidgety and nervous; or the plump 3-year-old pulling on her mother’s pants in defiance to get attention. I was always looking for a “story.” And though I don’t carry a notebook anymore, my phone has replaced it. Easier even to record ideas, thoughts, snippets. The truth is, I wrote a lot about my mom too. I had a complicated relationship with her. Can any of you relate? I wonder if it’s more common among mother/daughter and father/son relationships. That dynamic. Those high expectations. I wrote about this before: (loveand-all-its-idiosyncrasies.html). You see, my mom had a tough life, dreams ripped from her more than a few times, and she was what one may call a pessimist as a result. She was harsh. She was critical. She didn’t like me laughing too much. She often questioned my choices. Do you want people to stare at you? Aren’t those jeans a little too tight? Isn’t that skirt too short? Must you make such a fuss with your hair? You know you’re pretty, but you do realize your looks will fade? Aren’t you going to eat something else? Have you practiced this week? Can’t you be more like your brother? But what I realized in that checkout line, now that my mother has passed, all those things I used to do for her when she was ill, that I sometimes internally complained about, produced an bit of an epiphany in me…and hence, the poem. The tick tock is deafening. Muscles ache from strain. Rising sun. Feet on cold oak. Passing cars, honking horns, angry fists of move over and fuck yellow lights. Undress. Dress. Leotard. Bun just right. Spray in place. Grab an apple. Keys? Don't forget the milk for Mom. Dash to the express checkout and curse and hiss Into the back head of the too-chatty, blue hair, fumbling in her too-big purse, fingers not quick enough. Pour a quick glass of red to match cursory letters on black and white Times New Roman font In teacher's ink. Speed-dial family. Snapchat friends and try to breathe. It's what you've waited for. Except now, the silenced whirring rush tramples the solace because you realize that the only way to stop is to admit: Not anymore. And you look to see Irony holding Time's hand with a grim grin. Every year. One fewer thing to do. One minute. One second. Closer to death. It might seem a little dark from Rosemary, the romantic. I have a lot of them. These kinds of poems. And they probably don’t make sense to anyone but me. But they’re there. Often. And just below the surface. Always. It's okay. We all have a little dark in our light. I'm just grateful I have this little thing called writing to allow me to see them. It makes me whole. Yet another judgmental and arrogant person I've dealt with. Seems these last few weeks are filled with them, and I have no idea why! What is it about sensual images and the writing of erotic stories that can really get people’s knickers in a bunch? I addressed this last week with the word "erotic" and no sooner did I get into it with another on Twitter. This pompous know-it-all actually took one of my graphics and changed it. Now that takes effort! Would you like to see? I've attached it at the end if you do. I engaged with him, rather than simply block or lash out. Hell, I figured, at least I’m getting some interaction about my writing, right? And it slowly turned into the “I have a degree in English lit…and…” Yeah? So do I, buddy. But I didn’t go there. He wrote: “Usually if has anyone (sic) of either gender on the cover half naked, or uses the word Billionaire in the blurb, (or has a sword), I flick past it.” Okay. He is entitled to his opinion. But I did my own kind of flicking too (it may or may not have been with my middle finger!). Talk about judging a book by its cover. No mention of swords or billionaires in my blurb (not capitalized either, Mr. English major FYI), but yes, Natalie is en pointe ‘half naked.’ Oh my god. The gall, huh? Sadly, he is not alone in his view as Amazon agrees, because Temptation was put into the “jail” ages ago and my publisher hasn’t fixed it, because, well, if they do, I’ll lose all my reviews supposedly. This closed-minded way of thinking is getting old. And tiresome. When he started to insult the Bard, and that he “never re-reads a book” (What????), I knew it was a useless, one-sided conversation, that I was dealing with a very bored man, an unhappy one I’m sure. He hadn’t read my work, and I realized he wasn’t going to. That somehow because I explore the sensual and erotic in my writing, I’m lesser. I espoused that it’s really sad that such judgments and repression run rampant so strongly and that I find it disturbing. The question that still lingers for me more than anything though, is why he felt the need to go out of his way to engage and further, rework a graphic of mine. Buddy—you need to have more sex. Clearly. And therein lies the crux of the problem. I'm convinced of it! Natalie’s Edge is about the journey of discovering our true selves, including our sexual ones. The world of repression is very real, and for some of us, our writing is the only safe place we are allowed to express it. Writing that series was quite cathartic for me. And no one can take away its profound importance to my journey not only as a writer but as a human being who breathes and lives one day at a time. Darkness can consume an individual, swallow up the light, an unhappiness that doesn’t make much sense when that person seems to have everything. And we must reckon that or wither. Writing and exploring some of our darker thoughts and desires can often free us. Sometimes, it’s even therapy for conquering depression. And sometimes, we don’t even know until we let our subconscious roam free on the blank pages soon filled with so much of our truth, we only then can start to live. To deny sensuality is repressed, archaic nonsense. I grew up with the Catholic idea that sex is bad, so I know a thing or two about repression. I keep thinking we’re making progress. But we really aren’t. I won’t get into my political views here. But it’s quite apparent. And I ask why…just why does expressing oneself and embracing all facets of our beings get minimized to a sound byte of “porn”? My work is not “porn.” It is about relationships and romance, exploration, and submitting to visceral desires, through the written word to elicit emotion. My work is about love and acceptance. And I pity those that choose to ignore and suppress a vibrant and important part of living… If someone wants to roam about half a man, to him I simply say: I actually feel bad for you. I know. I've been there.
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I LOVE to write and read. I particularly enjoy reading erotic romance that has tons of emotion in it. I hope you will ask me questions and share your favorite authors and novels. I welcome all feedback.
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