As you may know, I'm in Austin, TX until May.
I've been working on some projects very close to me. In case the tone of this blog is not an indication, I've been exploring the concept of female sexuality and power. And making my way through it is equal parts emotionally devastating and freeing.
But it's an insane and unsettling feeling to stand in the mirror and deconstruct yourself so you can use the pieces to build a story that might make some sense to a few other people in the world around you.
Yesterday, while speeding down I-35 S in a beat-up purple 5-speed pick-up truck, I thought about my image. Let's say I'm used to a faster, sleeker, more...german automobile situation.
Me as a redneck desperada. Austin, TX. April 2013.
Then I thought about how close or far my image may be from representing the "moving average" of what's going on inside. That archetypal moment of vanity is always followed by thoughts about the way we see each other (you know, to dilute the self-loathing from having caught yourself in the act of being vain...). Looking at any one image or "snapshot" of a person can do as much to mislead you from who that person is as it can to inform you.
Was this woman driving the truck me? Must be...somehow. There I was doing it, right? I realize I'm not the first or only blue-eyed blonde to drive a beat-up pickup in Texas. I wasn't even the only one doing it at that moment, probably in a mile radius. Were any of them thinking about self-image? Could we have a conversation about it if we ran into each other?
Or am I a fucking alien?
The song Shallow by Beach Fossils came on the radio. They're the band that sounds like what happens when surfers get their hearts broken by some girls, become jaded on California, and move to Brooklyn to start a mellow punk band. And, like totally get away from things for a little while, man. It's from their new LP Clash the Truth and they're playing 4/17 in Austin. That song on that highway felt as much like home to me as anything these days.
There are just a lot of layers to people, I guess.
Here's to spilling your guts and good music. Jessa
P.S. Thanks to dudes at Austin Town Hall. You dudes made my day with tickets.