Twelve Year Old In A 31 Year Old Body

I got such a fantastic compliment from a stranger the other day. He said I was a 12 year old in a 31 year old body (I’m paraphrasing, but this is the gist.)

Remember when you were 12 years old?

You were in 6th grade, excited about getting into Junior High and the stoked about being the OG sixth grader in school ruling the kingdom of elementaryhood. God it was an awesome time. I didn’t have to worry about my period being late, the political correctness of waiting for a guy to call me vs. calling him, having multiple partners and getting tested.

But back when I was 12 and I was beautiful with my side ponytail and rocking Izod and no one could tell me anything, cos I knew it all. I guess some things never change!

For me, it was 1985 and “Live Aid” and “USA for Africa” was put together to raise money for the starving children in Africa. “That’s What Friends Are For” raised awareness for HIV and AIDS and “Sun City” hipped the globe to Apartheid and South Africa’s racist policies. This was back in the day when artists cared about people, unlike contemporary artists who are only inspired by themselves. (Sigh) The South African Government offered Nelson Mandela his freedom if he renounced violence, but he refused because he stood behind his principles and understood that sometimes violence is a necessity.

Technology was bubbling under: Microsoft finished it’s first version of Windows thus irreversibly altering our lives, Hewlitt Packard launched it’s brand and Macintosh went back to the drawingboard on their price points.

It’s the year scientists found the hole in the ozone layer, and everyday we were scared shitless about a nuclear attack and how to make ends meet as lower/middle class people. We were moving from the Reagan Dynasty and ushered in Bush Era Part One. Rich people were richer and poor people were…well? We were poor.

But I was 12 and that was the beautiful thing, because I had nothing to worry about: I was cute with my side ponytail, buckteeth, and ashy knees. I was invincible.

Musically Frankie told us to “Relax” and I listened to everything my sister listened to cos she was (and is to this day) the coolest person I ever knew and she was still around. Me and my sister would uprock to “I Feel For You” by Chaka Khan only to turn around and begin our unflinching addiction to the second wave of the British Invasion.

I was twelve and in love with myself, in love with the Jim McMahon of the Chicago Bears, in love with MTV, in love with my sister and in love with life. The beautiful psyche of a twelve year old is impenetrable.

I recently turned 31. I’m blessed to have groups of friends who love and adore me. Some accepted the occasional wrath with my love unconditionally and some people disappeared. Some people disappeared for a little while only to come back and love me more than ever.

There are the lifers, who knew me as a child and are part if my family to this day. They knew me as my past self, the self that lived in the shadow of the sister I worshipped and were there for me when I had to unexpectedly say goodbye to her forever.

There are the 10 year plussers, who knew me in my Berkeley/Oakland/SF/Reggae Dancehall Girl/Revolutionary days, armed with words sharper than any machete and more fatal than any AK. Together we were ready to change the world. Some of us moved to NY together, some of us see eachother only when I’m where you be or you be where I be, but we never forgot eachother. Even thru new residences, lovers, careers and haircuts we are still there like whoa.

There are my NYers, who knew Genevieve the Brooklynite, riding the train with knitting needles, or a book, but always available with an ear and a smile. I was there at the club to dance with you, on the other end of the phone ready to dispense advice to you, with my sewing machine and scissors ready to make an outfit for you. It was in NY that I developed the wise spirit because my own personal experiences were those that great stories and greater lessons were made of. I suffered and cried and hurt and grew and learned on an intimate level more in those 8 years than any other time in my life.

There are my LA loves who are imperfect in perfect ways and perfect in imperfect ways my heart: never ceases to love you. For all your stories and all your tears and all our falling out laughing and all our stepping on eachothers’ feet dancing, and all our gorging out eating and all our smoking out twerping, this continues to be a fabulous ride that I don’t want to get off of. In my old age, I’ve grown intolerant of people and volatile. Consequently, some friends I’ve lost. There is only one person I regret losing and only one person I am grateful to be exercised of. But everyone else was just a casualty of life.

There are the online friends that write in to me, encourage me and inspire me. The internet is a fascinating place. I feel like I know you. I feel like I can call you "my friend." Thanks to you those of you who have confirmed for me that which I wanted to believe all along. Thanks for the external voice that provided the push and support. Love, love. One day when I get published, it will be because of your collective unbiased kudos.

There are my work associates that I am proud to call MY FRIENDS. Everyday that I have been a functioning gainfully employed tax-paying adult, I've had a job that I loved going to everyday. I know this is rare. But I do count my blessings that the people that I see everyday at my job now and in everyjob I've had in the past, have touched my life in a beautiful way. I've always felt appreciated by the people I work with and I leave of trail of smiles wherever I go. On my birthday this year I was called by every boss I had in the last eight years. I go to work knowing that one spends too much time at work to not enjoy your surroundings. God bless making money and loving the time you spend doing it.

Then there are the Klingons: Pronounced "Cling-Ons"-Those who come out of nowhere and cling onto you like a parasite and try to suck you dry of your energy and life force. Synonym leech, parasite. You can never avoid Klingons in any stage of your life. They seem to infiltate for forever. Just try to recognize them when they apparate. They are prone to wreak havoc in their own lives and ultimately, yours.

So now I’m in the beginnings of my 31st year. 2004. This is the year that I bought a house, got a fantastic new job and all my best NY friends came to LA to join me to usher in the new era of Los Angeles. This year I loved a man and he loved me and even tho it didn’t work out, I realized that even the one that wasn’t “THE ONE” can be a man that you can love with all your might. This is the year that I learned there were still lessons I needed to learn like:
-some people don’t want to be saved
-some people just want an audience
-love can be easy (as in, it doesn't have to be hard.)
This year I learned the hard way that sometimes I’m hard on my friends because when I’m disappointed in them, it’s only cos I’m reliving the disappointment I had in myself when I made those same mistakes. It’s always easier to project anger externally. To those people, I am sorry.
This year I learned that, even in my perfect imperfection, I’ve still got a lot of learning to do to. But unlike other people, you’ve got to want to learn and not keep reliving the same mistakes over and over again.

To summise, I am happy to be a 12 year old living in a 31 year old body. 12 was a radical time for me. And 31 is a radical time for me. Radical Squared, rules!! It’s far better than being a homeless person, living in a 25 year old body and a broken down, non-operational truck. (Counting my blessings, God, each and every one.)

Peace and blessing to all the life-learners.
Pray that those who wish to continue suffering, SUFFER IN SILENCE.
Amen.