Why I Write - Writing For My Children – written March 21, 2011

Talking with “Mahmoud” about children and how life is meaningless without them got me thinking about writing in my journal.  In my church, we have been taught to keep journals from the time we were young.  Partly to see our own growth and to record our spiritual experiences, but also to provide a record for our descendants.  We want to share our histories with our descendants so they can really know us.

In my case, I post my journal entries on blogs (I only type my journal – can’t do the hand-written journals anymore, though I do keep detailed handwritten notes on my calendars and day planners). 

This is partly because I want to be involved in discussions about lesbianism, prostitution, swinging, and polyamory without using my real name, but also so my descendants can read my journals and know what I was like.  In blog form, I change all the names and identifying information because I don’t want my children getting any ideas and tracking down Robert Hannibal’s children.  I want to protect everyone who I write about, but especially Robert Hannibal. 

However, lately I’ve been thinking that I don’t I want my children to read my journal entries.  Especially after my conversation with Mahmoud reinforced how important I think mothers are for their children.  I want my children to just think of me as a mother.  I don’t want them to think of me as anything else. 

But the same goes for my grandchildren.  I only want them to think of me as a grandmother.  Grandmothers are the best thing in the world (unless the mother is wonderful, which mine wasn’t), and even though I love seeing pictures of my late grandmother when she was young and pretty, and I was so happy when she would tell me that I look like she did when she was young, her primary identity to me is as Grandma.  I want my grandchildren to only think of me as Grandma. 

So I’ve decided that these blog journal entries should only be read by my great-grandchildren.  That’s far enough down the line and I’ll be far enough removed from history at that point (I’m so old now and have not had any children yet, and I will most likely die before I have any grandchildren).  

But even though I’ll likely be dead before I have any grandchildren, I still want them to think of me as “Grandma.”  My great grandchildren, therefore, should be the first in my family to read these entries and to know of my shadow life. 

I want to emphasize that this is not because I’m embarrassed by any of this shadow life.  On the contrary, I am not at all ashamed of any of it, but I know some of the subject matter might make some people uncomfortable, which is the main reason I keep it secret. 

And I especially think women should not be ashamed of prostitution.  I think sex work is a very logical way of making money and I hate that there is such a stigma attached.  

But my most important role in life will be to be a mother, and so that is all that my children need to be know. No child wants to know about the sex lives, past or present, of their parents, and my children aren’t going to want to know about mine either.  Nor will my grandchildren.  And these journal entries include too much of my sexual life. 

When I’m older, I’ll go through my entries and designate the creative writing ones  and the ones that talk about spiritual matters and politics for my children and grand-children. But I’ll leave the ones about my personal life for my great-grandchildren.  Perhaps my great-grandchildren won’t want to know about my personal life either? In any case, we’ll see.

I don’t know how I will make sure that only my great-grandchildren read these entries.  I don’t know what blog-hosting services will be in place in the future, and I don’t know how to ensure that my great-grandchildren and beyond can read this but not my children and grandchildren. 

But there is plenty of time for this.  I am not even close to having any children at this point.

In the meantime, I enjoy the catharsis of purging but also reliving when I write down my life.  And I love being part of polyamory and lesbian groups online under my pseudonym that I could never be a part of in real life.  The internet is a great way for my shadow life to emerge from the bifurcation that I am.

Childhood Dreams – Fantasy Mermaid Dream (written 2005)

A dream I had when I was about 10 served as the basis for my story The Mermaid Queen and the Genie. In this dream, I was a blonde full-grown mermaid with long hair swimming in a little pond blocked off by a very old wooden fence.

Suddenly I wasn’t the mermaid anymore, though she remained in the scene, but I was now an adult man, an explorer. When I saw the mermaid, I, as the explorer, had to have her, so I reached over the fence and pulled her from the water and carried her in my arms. She didn’t want to come with me so she kept slipping out of my hands, through an opening in the fence and back into the pond. The water must not have been very deep because she never went underwater but stayed within easy reach.

Once again I grabbed her and held her in my arms, and once again she was too slippery and I couldn’t hold onto her and she went back into the pond. Again I grabbed her and somehow this third time I was able to hold onto her. I walked away from the fence, holding her in my arms, when she started getting faint, and I knew she needed water, but I didn’t want to put her back in the pond and risk losing her.

At this point an old shack appeared and I decided to take her in there to see if there was a bathtub. Inside we were safe for little awhile, but then an ugly and ferocious large brown dog appeared and kept barking at the mermaid, trying to bite her. I held the mermaid up high to keep her away from the dog, but he was very aggressive.

Finally I exited the shack and shut the door on the dog’s neck, killing him. Stepping outside, with the mermaid still in my arms, I found myself facing a large crowd of people applauding me for saving the mermaid and killing the bad dog.

All at once, I wasn’t the man anymore, though he was still there with the mermaid, and I was myself, at the age of 10, standing in the front of the crowd, clapping with the rest of the people, and my mom was standing next to me.

Childhood Dreams – Fame/Autographs (written 2005)

When I was 12, I had a dream that I was a famous movie star and author, and I was thus signing autographs.  Everyone in line to get my autograph was from my kindergarten class (my family had moved away after kindergarten, so I hadn’t seen any of these kids for six years). In the first part of the dream, all those in line were still of kindergarten age, though I was now 12. I was so upset that they hadn’t grown up even though I had, so I started crying.

In the second part of the dream, the setting was the same, with me signing autographs and everyone in line was again from my kindergarten class. In this instance, however, they had grown and we were all the same age but I didn’t recognize any of them. This made me so sad that they recognized me and knew me but I didn’t recognize or know them, that, again, I ended up crying.

Ever since this dream, I have abhorred the idea of autographs.  I couldn’t imagine anyone having such an exalted sense of self that simply signing their name on a piece of paper would be considered a gift to someone else, that it could be valuable.  However, I now understand that when most people sign their autograph, they are doing it out of obligation.  They are being asked for their autograph and are considered rude if they don't provide an autograph.

So why do we, as people, want autographs?  Is it because that person has touched the pen that has thus touched the paper, and now we are two steps removed from our said hero? I would prefer a handshake from someone I admired, but I know that has no lasting worth in the collections world. A photo would also be nice, as a way to preserve the memory of meeting that person, but I just can't wrap my head around the autograph.  It just seems too condescending to me, too superior, too king-to-his-peasant subjects.

Yes, a signed painting is more highly esteemed because we know that the artist actually painted it, but beyond that, what is the value of a signature not attached to a document? How is it important to sign your own name? Or, in Marilyn Monroe’s case, your self-created name? It is just ink on paper. What does it reveal about the mind behind? People can analyze signatures, but autographs are usually done hurriedly. What is there to analyze?

We learn to write our names in kindergarten. An adult writing his name, therefore, is nothing special. So why do we as people want that? Why would anyone want to provide that for anyone else?

And it’s a little ironic when an autograph-signer personalizes the autograph, like “Dear Susan, all the best, Love So-and-So-Famous Person.” Why would you want someone you don’t know to write a personal note to you, especially when, as is often the case, you’ve dictated to them what to write? How is there any meaning, then, in what was written?

Now, again, I would certainly want an autographed copy of a book from an author I really love, like John Steinbeck, because the author is signing his work, but I can't understand wanting a simple autograph alone. Whenever I am at a book talk, I always request the authors to sign the book and date it, as a historical document.  I don't like them to personalize it (though they usually ask me my name and then address the book to me), but I do understand the value in having the author of a work sign and date it.

Question: would I want a signed record album by The Beatles or The Who or Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd? I love original, vintage albums, but do I need the signatures? Would that take away from the purity of the album design? Or am I being too rigid and ridiculous in my own indignation?

For instance, if I had an original signed sketch of one of Leonardo da Vinci's scientific endeavors, I would be ecstatic.  Would a stand-alone autograph by this great man cause me to make an exception for my loathing of autographs? Would I then see meaning in a single signature, devoid of context?

I don't remember if the idea of signing autographs left a bad taste in my mouth before this dream, but certainly after.  When I wanted to be famous, I hoped that I could get out of signing autographs. The whole notion of autograph-signing made me too uneasy.  I decided that I would be fine with someone wanting to take a photo with me, but I just couldn't stomach signing an autograph.

I even came up with a solution for the (to me, at the time!) inevitable:  that when anyone requested my autograph, I would oblige, but would include something cheesy and uplifting, like "laugh often!" or "be kind!" (I just cannot stomach a stand-alone autograph, but is an autograph with a cheesy "message" any better?).

Another option was to continue my music evangelism and write "Zeppelin rules!" or "Listen to The Who!"

In addition, I would also ask them to sign my notebook and write something that made them happy or write a favorite quote.  Although I wanted to be famous and widely admired, and I accepted that signing autographs is part of the deal of fame, I still thought signing autographs was one of the most debasing (to the fans) parts of fame.

Point of clarification – even though I stopped wanting fame, I have never given up wanting to be in lesbian porn (in college, one of the football players even asked me if I was in porn – I guess at the time I looked like someone he'd seen in a porn film, because it took some convincing to get him to understand that it wasn’t me he’d seen, but at any rate, it wasn’t lesbian porn). 

I still hope to get involved in lesbian porn somehow, especially from a woman’s perspective (a lot of the lesbian porn out there is clearly filmed for a man’s viewing, and that needs to change).  However, I need to make sure I'll look good on camera, with my entire body and face exposed to the unforgiving lens or I won't even be hired in the first place, so there is work to be done before I can actually get into lesbian porn.

Even if I am able to make good money doing this, I won’t reach a level of fame where I will need to deal with autographs.  Some porn stars do become quite famous and have many fans, but since I want to only do lesbian porn, not any heterosexual porn, I don’t think I will ever be known as a porn star.

Although it's been five years since I've last wanted world-wide fame, the memory of it is still close enough that I know I cannot begrudge those who do sign autographs.  They are providing a gift for their fans, something their fans want, and something that in the future could be worth money.  I shouldn't find fault with autographs, but it is still a practice I would never feel comfortable doing.