Extraordinary Machines, everywhere

Long story short, was doing some research for my tattoo.

Out of curiosity, googled "Extraordinary Machine tattoo".

The first hit I get is

Extraordinary Machine: Lady GaGa's Tattoo

I click the link, and it happens to be a blogspot titled EXTRAORDINARY MACHINE using an identical template to mine. Amused by the coincidence, I clicked on the user's complete profile. I didn't find out a whole lot, but I did see that the user is a girl named Doris, a 22 year old UC grad, just like me.

Interested, I briefly looked through a post here and there. My eyes stopped when I noticed a potentially dramatic looking post with the words "crying" and "hurt" and "mom" all over it. I started from the top.

Okay. So this bix is legit.

"I saw the broken woman that I purposely ignore for my own selfish protection. I saw my mom, Mama, the same Mama who has had a life capable of making you doubt God’s existence. The same Mama that I get annoyed at, snap at, talk back at, turn my back at so that I won’t have to cry for her. The same Mama who told me last week that my dad has taken away all of her confidence and that she is ashamed to meet new people as a single mother.. the same Mama that I chose to respond with one word and then purposely focus all of my attention on the current TV show. The same Mama who I purposely don’t write about, I would rather write about anyone else, because I know that no one else will rip my heart open and make me cry with every word that I write.

I cried because I don’t love my mom enough because it hurts too much. I cried because my mom loves me more than life itself and depends on me to continue living, but I can’t handle the responsibility. I cried because I love her, and it hurts to love someone who hurts as much as her."

It's the last part that took me in.

I was just talking to Anthony yesterday about Fiona (surprise, surprise), particularly about the song "Extraordinary Machine" and how I continue to find meaning in it now after years of singing and listening to it over and over. Upon imparting to Anthony a particular relevance I spotted the other day that blew me away, he responded quite thoughtfully (with a finger to his temple and everything), "It just makes me wonder if people with the same sensibility or state of mind will run into the same kinds of problems in life."

To which I wholeheartedly agreed. It is probably the foremost reason I find so much comfort in Fiona's music; in times of sorrow, I never have to feel alone because someone I so greatly adore and admire has been there and done that/is expressing her anxiety in such a beautiful and eloquent medium. I don't even have to have gone through the specific experiences to understand her pain because if I were in her position, I would be dealing with them in the same exact way.

Most importantly--and this is something that I only recently realized--Fiona lets me know that it's okay to be sad. It's okay to be heartbroken. And it's okay to have no foreseeable resolution.

I think I like Doris. We seem to have a couple things in common (minus the Jesus part), and just by observing how much time and effort she dedicates to writing her entries reminds me of my high school days when xanga was my MAIN forum of catharsis.

Not to mention she's an extraordinary machine.

Over time I learned that when you first meet a fellow Fiona aficionado (alliteration to make you proud girl), you don't just write it off. It's more special than that. When you meet a Fiona fan, you know there's somewhat of a shared imprint that has brought you to this mutual appreciation.

Well, what can I do but to wish them all well. Doris seems to have her post-grad life figured out (at least more than I do). Ever heard of Columbia? The one in New York? Cuz my gurl got accepted (and wrote one helluva post about the day she found out).

I think about where Fiona is at right now and I ask Anthony if this means I'll end up stoned, single, and childless at 32. He said I could still be happy that way. And he's right, I can be.. If there's one thing I keep trying to tell myself these days, it's to let go of a) promises left unfulfilled and b) dreams that couldn't actually make me happy. Despite how wonderful the idea sounded or made me feel at one point, actions do eventually speak louder than words.

I'm excited about my tattoo. I feel like the guy in Memento, using body art to remind myself of (and this is where the comparison gets a bit blurred) the virtues and lessons I've collected along the way. With it I hope to commemorate a time when I was tested and failed, confused but not lost, and most importantly, redirected and redeemed.