Thursday, May 20, 2010

For whom the phone rings

It's wet, rainy and in the interests of pretending I have something meaningful to say on this wet and rainy day, I am typing. Yes typing. And job hunting. I have been unemployed for just over a month, in which time my available fundage has dwindled into the realm of the non existent. Oh joy of joys.

I love to work. I love money. Suffice to say my non working, non money making state is starting to do my head in. While all work is honourable, I can't bring myself to apply for the glut of call centre roles on offer for the fact that I'm having severe telephone anxiety. I dread the phone now - I die a little every time it rings. 6 years of 'welcome to... you're speaking with Sophia' will do that to you.

So what to do now? That, dear non readers will be revealed in future installments... and oh look, here comes the sun

I'm too chesty for my shirt

I have somewhat large breasts. Not that the world at large needs to know but they seem to have grown 3 cup sizes over the last year or so, going from an already generous D/DD to a mind bogglingly, somewhat distracting, porn star proportioned FF/G. In addition to these recent developments (no pun intended), I also have a narrow waist and generous hips and cut a generously voluptuous womanly figure. Anthropologically, my proportions would indicate I am fertile and supposedly attractive to the opposite sex. Just not Mormon men it would appear. Even when I was the epitome of Molly-ness, I was never asked out on dates or even flirted with. The most I've been able to get by way of male attention are leering drunk men at gigs (usually members of supporting bands) who forget my eyes and ears are on my head and not located somewhere in my cleavage or at the ends of my nipples. These are the same charming men who occasionally forget that hands and eyes are two very different things and so have to be reminded by a short sharp stab to the groin by way of my lightning quick fist/knee

I could be completely wrong but it seems to me that here in NZ, it's not really the done thing as a Mormon woman to be discussing such things as breasts, genitalia or sexual attractiveness in physical terms. Instead we talk about spiritual attractiveness in terms of marriage capital as it were. For a woman, this seems to include a testimony of the church, modesty in dress, speech and thought; intelligence, knowledge of the scriptures, prettiness, domestic talents, tidiness, unquestioning faith and a desire to be a mother. Demure also seems to go a long way. Personally, I find the so called ideal that seems to be upheld by the majority of YSA males in NZ stifling and just a tad boring. Beige. Insipid even. Have they no imagination? What about interesting? Principled? Opinionated? Mentally sharp and quick witted? Colourful? Bold? Brilliant and wordy? Goofy hot? Fiesty? Spontaneous? Romantic even? Sexy? While I am an excellent cook and baker (I'd be lying if I said otherwise), I'm also analytically unflappable, earthy and inquisitive by nature so discussions about supposedly taboo subjects such as body functions, sexual practices, death, pornography, necrophilia, body parts, masturbation, bodily fluids don't phase me in the slightest. I love the human body in all it's functional and brilliantly engineered glory and everything it can do - from running, jumping, sleeping, procreating, giving birth, creating life.

I find sex incredibly fascinating - from attraction and arousal, to the physical act of copulation itself; the biology and anatomy of the two parties involved; the changes in body and brain chemistry, ejaculation and orgasm to the sharing of genetic material - sperm/egg - and the conception of a new life form - cells splitting and multiplying to eventually become an embryo; a foetus and a whole other new person. The fact that all these individual cells in your body know exactly what to do in order to bring this all about is amazing. The nature of attraction also piques my interest. I know men who refuse to go out with women who are flat chested, others who will only date those who are, men who prefer a far more generous thigh than the ones paraded in magazines as the concave ideal and other men who really get off on the practice of heterosexual anal sex. I know men who have used prostitutes and one whose current partner was once a lesbian. I have interesting discussions with my friends. I have interesting friends. As well as this, I have an in depth knowledge of the scriptures, gospel doctrine and am modest in dress. I tend to be a little more liberal by way of thought and speech - I'm the first to admit I have on occasion a depraved sense of humour and while I'm hardly a sailor, I don't shy away from words based on their 4 lettered states if they adequately express my state of mind. Yes, I hear you. What a catch. With all of this to offer, I find myself perpetually single - which given the majority of men I have met, is not such a bad thing. While most men - both in and outside of church - are absolutely lovely, it can be difficult to find someone with whom I can share a true intellectual connection - someone who likes the fact I question and analyze everything - including doctrine and history, who likes that I think about words and their origins for fun, who likes to read as much as I do and likes all my little quirks in the process. Someone for whom nothing is non negotiable and whom I can speak to about everything, no matter how supposedly inappropriately odd it may be. While I remain perpetually hopeful that such a person exists, it isn't something I build all my plans around nor would I want it to be.

What I find infinitely more frustrating than being single however is the constant pressure to get married yesterday. Obviously as a 28 year old SINGLE woman, I must be doing something wrong - or so popular reasoning goes. One then has to wonder if these so called well meaning people would have me get married to anyone merely for the sake of being married, just so I can get one more notch on the belt of eternity. Nevermind compatibility or love. Nevermind attraction and mutual interests and value systems. Nevermind wanting to pursue education, travel or meet a wide range of people. Get married now. Wow. What an awesome idea. Why didn't I come up with that? Oh that's right, because I have a brain.

As ornery as I probably come across, marriage is a huge commitment I personally take pretty seriously and it's certainly not something I want to rush into just for the sake wearing a white dress and having a pretty day. It's something I want to share with someone whom I love and respect deeply, with whom I can build a life and home with, make an alliance and partnership with, have children with and yes, am crazily attracted to - heart, body and mind. Someone who will stand by me and not quit when it gets tough. Someone who helps me do the dishes and fold tea towels when it's late just so he can spend time with me or because he knows it makes my day easier. Someone who loves that I cook for him. Someone who will let me sleep in occasionally. Someone who likes to sleep in with me. Someone who will let me dote on him and fight for him. Someone who will fight for me. Someone who really, REALLY likes my large breasts, small waist and generous hips. Someone I don't mind being single for

Sunday, March 14, 2010

The sound of failure calls my name; I've decided to hear it out

I fell asleep on the train last week. Instead of coasting safely to my home as I've normally done without incident, I missed it altogether and in my unconscious state commenced my albeit brief journeying into the dark heart of rural Auckland. Upon waking, I experienced some momentary panic born of disorientation and the slow dawning realization that once again, inattention has me screwed.

What this has to do with anything? I'm finding that at 28, I'm having to face some serious questions as to how life has found me here, single with no current prospects of dating (unless you count the dodgy dude from the Feelers who tried to feel me up at a gig last night); I'm living in Papakura (my semi rural hometown) and working in a job I detest; I'm without any so called qualifications; I've never travelled except to go to Australia and Samoa; and the one thing I really want to do (act/sing/perform), I'm too scared to tell anyone for fear it won't happen.

Not that I'm complaining - if anything, I am incredibly blessed,,, I have a roof over my head; my mother and sisters are safe; I have the opportunity to own my own home - heck I even have the best dog in the world... it's just that sometimes it feels like everyone is getting where they want to go sooooo much faster and I find myself, on occasion, consumed by such boiling rage and anxiety and helplessness and it's all I can do not to crash my car into a petrol tanker just so I can see it all burn.

Such ridiculous, debilitating fears I heed sometimes - horrendous fears that render me mute, dumb and blind to what good is right there in front of me. The irony being of course, that I am excellent at helping other people work through theirs but mine? Good luck with that. Example - despite having an IQ of over 160 and excelling in maths, science, english and the arts in school, I honestly don't consider myself smart enough and therefore haven't completed my ridiculously straightforward English degree; despite having a 4 octave vocal range that can sigh, lull, hiss, growl, belt and wail like a banshee or make grown men cry on queue and in key, I don't think I'm good enough to sing lead so I settle for being a backing singer, in a band where I tend to out sing everyone on the stage. Such ridiculous counsel I heed at times. If any of my friends came up to me with those particular skills and accompanying concerns I'd be the first to let them know how amazing they were and how they had a duty to their talent and intellect to pursue their hopes, dreams and aspirations. I think it's about time I became my own best friend

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Oh Oh Oh pick me! Pick me!!

I was recently told by a writer friend of mine to start a blog. I'm not entirely sure he meant it as a compliment - I have a habit of emailing him woefully long prose ruminating on the meaning of life, love, future hopes, disappointments and aspirations - usually while dancing out of the arms of Morpheus and into the ardent clutches of chronic insomnia. As I'm barely coherent at the best of times, my poor, unfortunate correspondent occasionally has to put up with the insomniac lapsed Mormon equivalent of an inappropriate drunken text at 2am - but with bigger words, better spelling and zero alcohol.

Our topics range from serious doctrinal philosophical to the mind numbingly absurd - and while I'm occasionally mindful  my rambling may be an imposition on his time, I can't seem to stop myself from hitting the send button - not because I suffer from a compulsive send-button clicking disorder, but because the opportunity and ability to exchange ideas and words ignites my very soul. For all my self effacement, deprecation, evasiveness and protests to the contrary, I have a writer heart set to motion, dance and music. Words are the means through which I best communicate my self - at least as far as this can be applied to the written word. My tongue tied other self would very much beg to differ.

So, bearing this in mind, I'm going to pick up the gauntlet and accept the challenge. I'm writing and sharing and just being plain thankful for the joy of language, experience and opportunity. I don't expect to change the world or set the streets alight; I do however hope that my words will be of benefit to someone - anyone - who also has a heart that dances unaccompanied through moonlit chambers, who has worlds yet to come forth and who may just need some gentle encouragement. Here's lookin at you kid!

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Welcome to the jungle

And so begins the story of our intrepid heroine, whom shall hither to be referred to only as 'The Soph'

And so it is that I, the Soph in question, find myself embarking, somewhat a little surprisingly, on a word journey of mine own making. Having long been a commentator on other blogs (some might say a hijacker), it's with some trepidation I begin... If I'm honest, what I'm really trying to do is communicate ideas - thoughts, feelings, emotions, desires if you will in the vain hope that one, I might find other like minded individuals and two, well just because I can.

Redemptive Catharsis or verbal diarrhoea is a matter of perception - a perception that may or may not be challenged in this forum, or otherwise proven beyond all reasonable doubt. Either way, I'll see you at the end of the journey