On the difference between remembering 'what you know' and 'who you are'

It's funny, the things you learn on a ship.

A lot of the time you find you learn more in the spaces in between things happening than you ever will when life is happening so fast you barely have time to think about it. I suppose that's not wholly surprising, since thinking and learning go pretty hand-in-hand.

My brain has been in over-drive lately, been inspired by the thoughts and actions of the people around me, been connecting the dots between disparate concepts and dispositions.

I'm finding that sailors are some of the wisest, most insightful and inspirational people I have ever met, and you wouldn't guess it with their thick New England accents and their potty mouths and bad jokes and their Glenn Beck radio-listening. But I try to keep my eyes and my mind open, and what I see is this:

I really have so much respect for the profession of engineering because I have observed two things, in particular-

1) Engineers are awesome because when they see something is broken, they automatically start thinking about how to fix it. They are natural problem-solvers. You might think this is not a big deal but if you walk around a while and listen, you will notice that most other people are problem-finders. The thought struck me when I mentioned I was low on funds, waiting for my first paycheck. Within the evening three of the engineers had dug into their wallets and handed me $40 without thinking about it and Brenden the 2nd mate, knowing I smoke cigarettes had tossed me a few packs and asked if it were enough to tide me over.

They're nice guys, but to me it was more than that. I was thinking today about this night I had in New York City about this time last year. For reasons I won't get into, I wasn't allowed into a club in the meat-packing district and I watched through tear-streaked make-up as each one of my friends walked in without me, eventually leaving me alone on the street. I was just thinking, if I were broke, if I didn't have money for a pack of cigarettes I'm positive the reaction from them would have been more along the lines of responding 'Oh man. That sucks.'

Anyway this is why engineers are awesome. You could know everything about being cool, and know about all the cool things and be where the coolest things are happening, but you will never be as cool as the person who sees something needs fixing and fixes it, without thinking about 'what's in it for me'.

2) This is something I feel like I wouldn't ever really understand if I hadn't spent so much time working on a ship, with a crew. For the record, I have lived a relatively lower-middle-class life. Everything is about being more than what you are, having a brighter future than your parents had, and about becoming someone important. We live in a society where being 'famous' seems to have greater clout than being 'useful'... and somehow we've come to believe that egomaniacal, self-centered and self-preserving behavior is normal... that life is a process of trying to get the rest of the world to realize how awesome you are.

No wonder most of us feel so lost, and unhappy.

One of my friends from the City said to me earlier this year, 'I really love that you love hanging out with sailors.'

It is true, and I know that to most people it seems strange that a girl like me, who has spent most of her lives in cities, has an erroneous degree in neuroscience from the University of Spoiled Children, really prefers to spend her time in the company of blue-collar men who spend two-thirds of their lives away from their families, who work seven days a week under appalling and hazardous conditions, who have no manners and don't give a shit where you went to college or how many books you've read.



But it's true. I REALLY love hanging out with sailors.

The days after work when we all go out for beers and oysters, I lean back and think about how lucky I am, to be around a group of people who are TOTALLY relaxed because they know they've worked as hard as they could work that day.

The thing about working on a ship is, you never wonder where you belong because you always have a purpose. You are always part of a greater whole, which is incomplete without you and the things you have been called upon to do. You realize that in order for a system to function effectively and efficiently, each of it's individual components have to WORK, and that includes you.

This type of work cultivates a particular kind of person, a person who understands two things, at the same time: that they are just a small part of a greater system, and that the system cannot function as effectively without them.

It seems like a pretty simple concept until you realize how many people question their self-worth and usefulness on a daily basis. I know I did.



________________________________________________________________

But this isn't really what I intended to write about.

I had a really great night the other night, I'd had too much coffee earlier in the day so I had a little extra energy and decided to spend some time up in officer's lounge doing arts and crafts (I'm making a surprise present for someone I love) and watching movies, but when I turned on the TV the channel was on PBS (bless PBS) and they were broadcasting the Charlie Rose Brain Series, which is basically a think-tank of brainy people talking about brains.

I thought this was nice, since I studied brains in school and I quite like them so I decided to watch this, instead and anyway it made me feel real smart like I was a brainy person watching brainy people talk about brains.

It's been almost SIX YEARS since I graduated from college, which kind of blows my mind because I thought I would be a lot smarter by now than I actually am. I also realized when found a copy of my dissertation and tried to read it (Titled: Actions of Hexomethaniosulfonate Reagent on Positions alpha-562 and beta-464 of Neural Glycine Receptors Modulation of Alcohol Permeability) ...that for the most part, I have completely forgotten everything I've learned (read: I don't understand what that means anymore, either).

The reassuring thing is, although I can't remember how to sound smart I know I am still becoming wiser- because I understand that a large part of growing up is knowing what's worth remembering, and what's okay to forget.

The topic discussion on the series that evening was Alzheimer's, aging and memory loss. Not surprisingly, they were using H.M. as an example, who is the Neuroscience World's most famous case study. You can read more about him, and who he is here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HM_(patient)

I remembered learning about him, and was fascinated by the deep sense of tragedy I felt when empathizing with the concept of not being able to learn anything new.

Studies of H.M. were key to the discovery that memory has a really complicated and non-localized way of being stored.. because of him we know that the human mind is capable of learning not just in the traditional sense, but also on a purely subconscious level, and also purely on a physical level.

In short, it led to the discovery that as you mature and develop, who you become is not only the product of what you remember, but also the product of what you don't remember learning.

In neuroscience they seperate these types of memory into two categories: 'declarative' memory and 'non-declaratvie' memory. Declarative memory is what we typically think of when we think of memory- the recall of people names, places, locations, chronology and history. When we say, 'my memory is not so good' this is the kind of memory we're talking about.

'Non-declarative memory' is understandably a little harder to describe because it is the kind of memory that is more subjective in nature, its memory stored in the more evolutionarily primitive parts of our brain and it's much more instinctively rooted. When something scares you and you don't know why... when the more you practice, the less you have to think about it.. this is non-declarative memory.

The difference between the two was illustrated by a scenario where a man is attacked by a large dog as a child. On a conscious level, the man remembers, 'When I was a child, I was attacked by a large dog, so I know to stay away from large dogs.' The memory of the attack is a learned response- it's something he remembers, and something he knows about himself.

Maybe the same man suffers an injury and he's rendered a retrogade amnesiac; he doesn't remember his name, much less what happened to him when he was six. He takes a walk around the block, passes a man with a pit bull and is frozen with a totally irrational sense of terror. In psychology we call this 'Pavlovian conditioning'.. a sort of 'learning without knowing.'

... but it was the way the woman in the interview put it, that really stuck with me. She said, 'It's the difference between what you know, and who you are.'


This kind of made me realize, that it's useful to acknowledge not only the difference between those two things... 'What you know'... and 'who you are'.... but their similarities... namely that these things are LEARNED and therefore change with experience... regardless of whether or not you're aware of it.

With this in mind I feel as if it's inadequate to use the excuse that 'it's just who I am' in order to justify your own behavior. I really feel as if identity is something which develops over time... not just as a discovery of the qualities you have possessed for as long as you remember, but as a discovery that you have the choice to abandon the qualities which no longer serve you, this world, or the people you love.

I think 'who you are' is actually really something you can learn, by allowing the experiences in your life to challenge your so-called instincts and through the growing realization that finding yourself, and knowing who you are is not necessarily just a process of excavation. Self-discovery is a dynamic process... and even if you knew who you were yesterday, you are no longer that person today.

It's an intimidating notion unless you remember that wisdom is about choice and therefore about freedom. About remembering and forgetting. Self-discovery could be re-defined more as a sort of 'self-creation'... as you mature, hold onto certain ideas and let go of others you are creating a new entity every day, which interacts with the world in a different way.

You are the creator of yourself. No one is responsible for you, and who you are, but you.

We live in a paradoxical universe where the only constant is change itself. It can be disconcerting, when you have nothing to grab ahold of and particularly disconcerting when we find it difficult to grab a hold of anything even within our own identities.

But I'm optimistic.

In a universe where self-knowledge is perpetually out of my grasp I have this thing, an imagination, a godliness, a part of me that always has a vision of who I could be.

And I have a feeling that it's that part of me. I have a feeling that THAT is who I am.

To See and Not See

"Perceptual-cognitive processes, while physiological, are also personal -- it is not a world that one perceives or constructs but one’s own world -- and they lead to, are linked to, a perceptual self, with a will, an orientation, and a style of its own. This perceptual self may itself collapse with the collapse of perceptual systems, altering the orientation and the very identity of the individual." - Oliver Sacks, "To See and Not See", An Anthropologist on Mars, New York: Vintage, 1995

Eadem Mutata Resurgo

"Although changed, I shall arise the same."



"[The logarithmic spiral] may be used as a symbol, either of fortitude and constancy in adversity, or of the human body, which after all its changes, even after death, will be restored to its exact and perfect self."

- Jacob Bernoulli, Swiss Mathemetician

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

-William Ernest Henley

In Memory of Josh Skunk

I know at some point, in everyone's life, they stop to wonder… what will happen, when I'm gone?

Who will miss me? Who will remember me? Will I be forgotten?

Is anyone I know a better person, for having met me?

When I'm gone, will I have mattered?

Sometimes, when I'm not feeling good about myself, I try to convince myself that no one will miss me. No one will remember me. That I have not made any sort of positive impact on the world, but this is a totally unfounded, and totally unreasonable thing to believe… and deep down, I don't believe it, and I don't think anyone should.

No matter who you are… no matter how smart, how stupid, how good or bad you think you are… no matter how significant or insignificant you think you are… whether or not you think you are loved… whether or not you feel you're universally hated… and even if you are… you matter.

You matter, so much.

How do I know this. It's hard for me to think about, without being overwhelmed- but I feel like this is something I have to tell you. I know this because I have lived 26 years, and I had never truly known what it felt like, to lose someone you love. I could not even think about it, because the thought terrified me. But the truth is, we will ALL lose someone we love, and we will miss them. They matter, to us.

I lost my grandmother suddenly to cancer over the holidays last year. She was brought to the emergency room on christmas eve, and she passed away the morning of new year's eve. She was 72 years old, and loved, and had babies, and a loving husband, and grand-babies. And although I miss her, every day, I know she lived her life, she was happy most of the time, and although death never makes sense, I was able to experience how losing her brought my family closer, and I was able to hold her hand, and tell her I loved her before she took her last breath.

But sometimes, when people leave us it's a little harder, and it seems a little more senseless, and you're left wondering, if you ever really had a chance to show this person how much you really cared, or even if you ever really realized how much you really cared… it's hard.

About a month ago, I lost a very close friend, his name was Josh Marshall, and I loved him, even if he didn't know it. He was 27 years old.



Even now, it's hard to know what to say… even now, after I have hugged the people who loved him, after I've honored him and thought of him. After I've gone through the feelings of guilt, over the possibility that I could have been a better friend, over the falling out we had years ago, over the possibility that when he died, he didn't know, how much he mattered.

I don't know what to say… but what I'm thinking of now, is all the times he was there for me, and I for him. When I felt alone, like I had no friends, Josh was there. When I could not help myself, he helped me. When I thought no one loved me, he told me he did. When he had no place to go, he knew he could stay with me. We made some bad decisions, as friends.. but I think those decisions made us naked to each other as humans, and I can only pray, to whoever will listen, that he understood that somehow it was only a matter of time before we saw and loved each other for who we were… which is what all of us are to each other, I promise… two humans in the world, who had love in our hearts, who were trying to show each other in broken ways that we were not alone.

When our friend Dave told me Josh was in the hospital, that he'd tried to kill himself, I was angry. I thought, how stupid and selfish. But when I got the call at 7 in the morning that Wednesday, that we'd lost him, that he was gone… that he'd suffocated using nitrous oxide and putting a bag over his head, I cried… for days. Out of shock, out of grief and guilt… and for a large part because I worried that he never knew how important he was, to so many people, and how much I cared for him, and loved him.

I didn't know, if he knew. I wasn't sure. We'll never know if he meant to do it on purpose, or if it was an accident. Josh was a complicated, and troubled individual. He was reckless, and self-destructive.

But we all knew how much he loved music, and how much he loved sharing it with people. We all knew how much he loved the thrill of the celebration, and that he had ideas, and dreams, and how much he loved to share those things. He used to call me, even after we'd stopped speaking, to tell me how much he loved me and missed me. He was my best friend.

We'll never know what was going through his mind, then.. and either way, he's gone… and I think about all the things he wanted to do, and was excited to pursue, and it's tragedy in my heart, and no matter how I celebrate who he was, I mourn for his dreams, every day.

I never understood, why people needed a concept of life after death. Why we needed heavens and hells, or reincarnation, or ghosts. Maybe this is why I cried so much, when he first left us. But something happened to me, and it changed me, and I want to share it with you. This is my story of how Josh taught me something about magic, about life after death, and what it really means.

When I found out Josh was gone, I was on a ship, about to set sail to Jacksonville. I immediately bought a plane ticket to Boston, I felt an urgent need to be with the people who loved him, it was all I could think about, and the only thing I could come up with that would quell the impossibly deep ache in my heart. For four days I was alone at sea with my thoughts about Josh, and about why, and about what it meant.

Although some might think four days alone, thinking about the death of someone you love would be harder, the blue of the ocean for miles around, the absence of land for days brought a tranquility to my soul. I think it gave me a chance to breathe, and some part of me realized that the timing of it, though tragic, was a blessing. That time swallowed up by the blue ocean saved me, and gave me some strength and peace to stand the intensity of what was to come.

I arrived in New York and Alex picked me up at the airport. I wish I could tell you, what Alex and Josh and I meant to each other but I feel like it's something only Alex, Josh and I will ever understand… which is why hugging Alex, and feeling his tears fall on my shoulder, and mine on his was so NECESSARY. I can only explain it this way… there are times, when you are with people, that everything feels right in the world. You feel complete, among them. For a while, that was Alex, Josh and I. Together, we were complete.

I guess it could be called some kind of love. We loved each other, the three of us.

We all have our special memories of him but here was ours, here is what Josh and Alex and I do together in my dreams and memories where he is still with us- Alex and I come over to Josh's apartment near U Mass with our records and a big bottle of Jim Beam, and Josh cooks dinner for everybody at the apartment.

In the summer, we barbecued and drank beers and Tim and Eddie and Theresa would come over… Josh would roll spliffs and we would smoke them and drink Jim Beam out of the bottle all night. From early afternoon until the last person passed out, we played records together, three records each, rotating… Alex, Josh, me. Alex, Josh, me. We would do this at least once a week for hours, usually until 6 or 8 in the morning the next day. When everyone woke up, we'd go to brunch and Katrine would drive us, and even though it was obvious they loved the shit out of each other, they'd spend the whole time insulting each other while we sat awkwardly in the back seat.

We did this every week, for about a year and then things changed. Josh got kicked out of his apartment for not paying rent, I had my own issues to sort through, Alex moved to New York City… and we grew apart… life happened… I guess.

We had decided to go to Boston to honor Josh in his city, so we went about picking records from Alex's collection that reminded us of him. There were a lot, but there was one in particular… which was Punch Drunk 002 by Peverelist - Erstwhile Rhythm/ The Grind that we spent a significant amount of time searching for.

Josh used to play this one all the time. It was one of his favorite records… and for some reason this was the one that stood out most to us, the one record that would forever remind us of Josh, and those many, many times we'd play together, which happens only in our heads now like memories, or dreams.

When we arrived in Boston, I went straight to Twisted Village in Harvard Square. I used to accompany Josh to this used record store once a month or so to help him carry records to sell when he needed money, which was pretty much all the time. Like a lot of things in Boston, it hadn't changed much, and the used electronic section was in the place it had always been. Alex and I stood side by side, sifting through the records. I didn't know what I was looking for… maybe I was hoping one of Josh's records would be there, but I wasn't seeing any dubstep at all in the bin… and then there it was.

I picked it up and held my hand over my mouth in disbelief. The sleeve was worn dirty around the edges of the record, like it'd been stuffed into a bag with too many records in it and they'd pressed together and created rubbings with the filth of too many basement parties. The hole in the middle had been taped over and re- pierced, probably to reinforce the record's grip on the table after too many times being played- and the sides were marked "A" and "B" unceremoniously on each side with familiar hand-writing.

"Alex," I said,

"I think this was Josh's."

He tells me, it couldn't be, Josh would never sell THIS record, it was one of his favorites… but part of me just knows, this is Josh's record, that he loved, that he played a million times, and beat up, and sold because he needed money, for something, maybe rent, maybe a burger, maybe whippets.

I took it up to the man at the counter, the same man who'd always been at the counter, who I'm sure Josh has sold many, many records to. "Who sold you this record?" I asked him.

He told me, he'd had 3 copies of that record, that it was hard to say who it came from.

On my phone, I pulled up a photograph I'd taken of Josh climbing into the window of my third floor apartment one summer, when we'd had a barbecue. I remember, he'd kicked everyone out of my apartment, tucked me in and locked the door behind him that night because I was too drunk to do it myself.

As soon as I saw the recognition in the man's face, I burst into tears. I barely made him out saying, 'Yes! That's him, the other two were collectors so their copies were in mint condition but this guy, he was a DJ, he always played his… this was definitely his."

I just lost it right then, my heart broke, like I just realized Josh was gone, but it was more than that- something happened, when I was holding that record in my hands, I felt him give it to me, I felt Josh put it into my hands as the record store owner said "I can't ask you to pay for this, it belongs to you" and I stumbled out onto the street and onto a nearby stoop.

I didn't know what to think. I just looked at the record, and thought about Josh playing it, and it felt like when I held my grandmother's cold hand, felt it's softness, said goodbye.

Alex was crying, too. He said to me, "He wanted you to have it. Nobody should own that record but you."



I don't believe in a lot that I can't touch, or prove. I don't believe in ghosts, and I don't really believe in life after death, … at least, not in the form of heaven or hell, or ghosts or people being reincarnated into plants and animals and other people.

But I do believe what I feel, and that sometimes, when things happen, they happen in a way that helps you to make sense in an otherwise senseless world. From the second he left this world, and especially at that moment in the record store, I felt like Josh was teaching me, and comforting me. I felt like he was showing me… something.

I don't know exactly what that thing is, but I can tell you what I saw, which is people coming together out of a common love, out of a love for Josh. It was people remembering how much of an impact he had on their lives, whether he knew it or not. It was his unmistakable spirit in each and every one of us, and it was the real magic, that you just see when you realize that people die, but they never go away, that you see them everywhere, that they find ways of loving you, and being there for you, and tucking you in.

I know that as I continue to love as I have been loved, that when my life is over, I will matter. Because the people I loved, will love each other. They will love their lives, and they will honor me every moment they take a breathe. Life after death is not about mysticism, there's nothing paranormal about it. We live IN each other. We love FOR each other. Forever. Beyond the limits of our own humanity.

I feel like Josh knew how much he mattered, even if he didn't think he mattered. He knew he was loved, because he WAS loved. I wonder if he knew, if I showed him enough, and I never could have possibly shown him because loving someone, and showing them, are two different things. Between me and you, trust me, liberate yourself because love is not about evidence, but about faith. All you can do, is just love someone, do your best to show them… and while you can hope that on some conscious level you've made it clear to them, you have to KNOW, in your heart, that THEY know.

And I guess, I feel like that's what Josh has shown me. That he knew, in his heart what I knew in mine. That he mattered to me. And that he knew.

Never give up work.

"One, remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet.

Two, never give up work. Work gives you meaning and purpose and life is empty without it.

Three, if you are lucky enough to find love, remember it is there and don't throw it away."


- Stephen Hawking, on what advice he has passed on to his three children, in an interview with Diane Sawyer

It's a Man's World

"This is a man's world... but it would be nothing, without a woman or a girl." - James Brown


I struggle when I try to discuss gender. For something so polarized it just seems like such a complicated issue from where I'm standing...

I wanted to believe that men and women, in particular, were created equal. I grew up with two brothers, Emil and Brent. Until my cousin Carisa was born when I was 12, I was the only girl out of 9 grandchildren. My two best friends in kindergarten were Justin and Alejo. When I grew up a little more, my two best friends in high school were John, and Oliver. In college, I met my best friend, and one of the greatest men I know, Carl.

I have always been comfortable around boys. Part of me will always assume that we were created equal. Part of me will always think that we women are just as strong, just as capable, and just as intelligent. And I think, part of me is right-

- but as I have grown wiser, and older, I have learned something that is hard to hear.. which is in gender, we are NOT equal.

None of us are. We were never created equal.. whether you are male or female you were born and your biology gave you a set of obstacles to overcome, and your upbringing gave you prejudices and ignorances to defy as you grew older and chose to see the world through new eyes, governed by new rules and new considerations.

This is what wisdom is, and it's complicated and always changing. The world to me today is so very different from a few years, or even a few months ago. It's overwhelming and confusing... and at the same time I see it more clearly... I have more clarity. At least I like to think so.

In a way I think we have assigned way too much value to the concept of equality. I know our forefathers were privy to point out that 'all men are created equal' but we have to remember these were the same dudes who owned slaves and left out the other half of the population (women).

Why do we have to be equal? Why do 'I' have to = 'You'? Doesn't it seem a bit redundant especially when assuredly the sum of our differences probably amount to greater versatility than simply more of the same thing. Let's think of it in mathematical terms. Let's get 'math'-y.

Think of it this way...

'Me'+'You' > [Me][You]

The logic is sticky here, but follow me- If we both had exactly the same strengths and weaknesses, who would be strong where I am weak? Who would be logical when logic were needed and who would be creative, when creativity were needed? We all have very unique, ever-changing sets of experience and natural qualities. I like to think that on a grand scale, the sum of our varied abilities (combined) is greater than those same strengths and weaknesses (apart).

You know, 'No man (or woman, I guess) is an island' sort-of-thing.

A world where we are NOT created equal does not necessarily mean a world with out equal greatness though, if that makes sense. I thoroughly believe every person has something different to bring to the table- it might be the 'Generation Y' in me. I don't mind the confidence the self-esteem movement of the 80s has given me- 5 years out of college at 27 during an economic recession and I have had mostly all of the accompanying false sense of entitlement beaten out of me.

It might have taken me a while, but just like those in the generations before me who have grown up to 'know better', I've realized that no matter how I'm born, and no matter what I've got to work with- the best things in life come to those who brave the storm, live without fear, and WORK HARD.

Honestly I would prefer not to think about the differences between men and women... it's a touchy subject, probably because who we are supposed to be culturally and socially is so out of whack with the millions of years our biology has taken to get used to the idea of sexual reproduction, and the differentiation of not only our bodies, but our social needs as we have evolved into the sexy communal creatures that we are.

Possibly due to whiplash from the Feminist Movement of our mothers, I have cringed away from the 'F' word. I don't really feel the need for anyone to hear me 'roar'. I don't have to prove a point by burning a bra, as I rather like having a contraption that prevents my bosoms from hitting my knees and gives my back a little extra support.

I have no doubt that my ambivalence stems from the fact that women in generations before me have been bold enough to make the points they needed to make about feminity, and for that I will always be grateful. I live in a world where women force their boyfriends to watch Sex in the City, get married late in life after establishing successful careers, and rappers urge 'all the independent women' to 'git up on tha dancefloor.'

That's not to say I am a complacent woman.. as I type this I am living aboard a Navy carrier ship with 13 men ranging in age from 28 to 60. The only other woman on the shipyard is the one who comes by at 4pm to empty our trash bins. I live with men, I drink with them, I go shopping with them, I work with them all day.

Contrary to popular belief for most of human civilization it was not always necessarily 'A Man's World'. Women had valuable roles in every aspect of society, and in a lot of cases this is also true today, with few exceptions.

Ship life is an exception. Months alone at sea, heavy drinking and getting into trouble in the ports of Saipan, Thailand, Korea and the Philippines are not only a foreign concept to women, but also to most men.. and in this environment which involves a lot of hazardous work, dangerous materials, heavy lifting, filth and machinery... it's not surprising that most everyone here is a 'dude'.

It's part of the human predicament to define one's 'self' while at the same time figuring out where it you fit into this crazy world. Life is about 'finding', finding YOUR self, finding YOUR place. It's understanding that the two pursuits might appear contradictory at times- how do you seperate yourself, while at the same time becoming part of some greater 'whole'?

The same goes for finding yourself in terms of gender.. and in a man's world, where for the most part there is no pre-defined 'place' for a woman, this can be a challenge.

I'm glad I ended up here at this point in my life, where I am relatively comfortable with who I am because this challenge, while difficult, doesn't seem wholly impossible. Some days I feel out of place, especially when the security guard asks me not to leave my ID card on the ID bulletin where everyone else hangs theirs because it 'distracts the workers', or I get whistled at, or someone tries to hit on me every five minutes, because that's what guys do in front of other guys when women are around.

Maybe because of the past three years of DJing, which is also a very male-dominated arena, I feel more or less prepared to deal with the unusual circumstances I currently find myself in. I have learned that a great deal of finding your place in the world is knowing who you are, despite how others see you.

When you are a woman in a man's world, it's impossible to ignore that people stare at you, and that you are an object of curiosity. I feel like there's something to be learned by being aware of your surroundings and accepting that this observation is not a judgment, its just the truth, and only as big of a deal as you choose to make it.

The same goes for DJing.. when you are a woman, people notice.. not because you're being too sexy, not because you're exploiting your gender, not because they're assholes and perverts and not because you're a bitch or a whore- it's just odd. Unusual. A pink dot in a sea of blue.

I am a minority here. It's just a fact, but I'm also smart enough to know that it's just a thing, like having ten fingers and ten toes. It doesn't make me who I am, and it is not my identity.

To further extend that notion, I really think that we are ALL minorities, because we are ALL one-of-a-kind. We are one lonely strange thing... floating in a world of Others. When I think of it this way oddly enough I don't feel so alone, and I don't feel so out of place here among men.

Now as I am approaching my late twenties I think a lot more about what it means to grow up, what it means to be a Woman instead of a Girl, or a Man instead of a Boy and it only gets clearer and more beautiful as the days go by. It has a lot to do with finding that Self, finding that Place... and I think handling the interactions in your life with grace,compassion and dignity; notions which are a great deal more complicated than 'right', 'wrong','good', or 'bad'.

The more we understand ourselves, and forgive ourselves our short-comings... I think the more we are given an opportunity to be aware of the flaws and short-comings of the people around us, and forgive them as you would forgive yourself.

It's a tough lesson to learn, true forgiveness. Someone once told me it's the most difficult thing in the world to do... but that forgiveness is the path to true freedom. I can't pretend I've learned to forgive myself or others completely.. but I can definitely see the truth in that statement and there's really nothing mystical about it. Just think about how it feels to be truly forgiven, and you'll know it too.

Some days I feel like an alien in this man's world, like I am a sheep in a wolf den, or a cupcake at a fat camp. You feel vulnerable, and you feel the need to bare your teeth and project a level of fierceness- this is especially relevent to the DJ world, which is highly competitive in nature... some people are quick to point out that any so-called 'success' I might experience as a DJ must have to do with my gender and I used to get really quite defensive about it. I used to really want to prove that my gender had nothing to do with the business of being recognized.

But that's like trying to prove Grace Jones would be just as fierce if she looked like Woody Allen, it's bunk point. Showmanship is about the full package, about knowing what you have to work with, accepting the factors you can't change and growing where growth permits. If that seems kind of shallow consider this: creative expression is both the ultimate selfish-ness, and the ultimate self-lessness- so along that line of logic (or lack thereof) it makes sense that a true performer 'has what it takes' on both a superficial AND profound level.

You cannot help if you were born into a poor family and have to work hard to survive. You cannot help (very much) being male or female, or how you look or how sharp you are.

But regardless of all those things, if you want to do anything, be a DJ, be rich and famous, be a wife and mother- it's very valuable to be AWARE.

It's valuable to be aware of WHY you want what you want. It's valuable to step back and be honest with yourself, and tell yourself the truth about whether that thing you want is within your reach. You might find that it's not really even 'you' who wants to reach it.

I really think all it takes is knowing if your intentions come from passion- if it is truly part of who you are, then at every point in the journey from point A to point B you will be content.. there is no rush, and it is not a race... it is just inevitable. We are all on a path.. not toward becoming GREAT, or becoming MORE, but toward becoming Ourselves. We are born complete... but it's only when the sands and tides of time have washed away the shrouds of our self-doubt that we shine through luminescent.


.... but I have gone off on a tangent.


I really meant to be writing about what has been going through my head a lot lately, which is this- when I think of what it means to belong in a man's world, I always think in my head that what it means to be a woman, or a girl... is the same as it what it means to be a daughter and a sister, a mother, an aunt or a grandmother.

Every woman is someone's daughter. If we're lucky we will be mothers, all of us at some point will be in a position to care for someone, nurture them and teach them. Every brother has fought with their sister and also protected her- has looked up to her and competed with her. Every sister is secretly proud of her brother.

When you think of family, biological or otherwise, you think of a unit which loves without condition, which will support and protect you, in which you have a place forever, and are not alone.

I don't mean to wax utopian because at the same time, every single family that has ever existed is totally dysfunctional.

I don't have to tell you that this human family you belong to probably does not love you unconditionally. It probably is not supporting or protecting you, and I'll bet you a billion dollars that sometimes you get lonely.

But I will tell you this, regardless of whether or not you are one woman among hundreds of men- if you treat the people around you like family, they will take care of you, too. I guess that's where my brain is at these days.