Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
We all have our own family history that shapes us into the people we are. We are affected in one way or another by the things that have happened to us. We all develop various defense mechanisms and coping skills. I avoid with humor or I simply change the subject. These are only short term solutions so these things that I avoid only fester (and manifest in some other way I'm sure). I always find myself searching for meaning. I rarely ever take things at face value. I just always think there's more to the story. I'm not sure why I am this way but...I am. There has got to be a reason that despite the fact that I have all ten fingers and toes, 20/20 vision, hearing (though selective at times), and a few talents, I am not happy.
I talked to my father today. I hadn't talked to him since uh, I don't remember. I'm not sure how to describe our relationship (and I use that term loosely). I don't remember much about my childhood or anything else these days for that matter. That's also a defense mechanism/coping skill (or whatever you want to call it) that I've developed. I tend to forget the unfortunate or force it into "the sea of forgetfulness" as my mother would say. So, I'm not sure if the fact that I don't remember much of what happened to me before middle school means those times were so "unfortunate" that I've blocked them out of my memory or I simply have a bad memory. But when I see little girls with their fathers, I find myself feeling nostalgic. I do remember watching boxing with my dad. He would straddle the piano stool in front of the big screen and eat bologna sandwiches while I sat on the floor at his feet asking questions. I still don't understand the sport but every now and then, I catch myself watching it (boxing) or rather staring at the tv screen in a daze while I reminisce.
I also remember one of the times my (half) brothers came from Connecticut to visit. I don't remember how old I was but I was a young girl. My brothers may have been in high school so I was probably in elementary school (first grade, maybe even kindergarten). Anyway. They rode the bus so my mother and I went to pick them up from the Greyhound station but we couldn't find them once we arrived. I looked out of the bus station window to the Burger King across the street and there they were sitting outside eating burgers. I always seem to remember the most seemingly insignificant things. I drive past that Burger King on my way to work and I think about that moment everyday.
I remember dreaming. I went through the entire set of encyclopedias and "dog-earred" every article about whatever musical instrument was on that page. I read them all for enjoyment. I taught myself to play the recorder and harmonica just because--period. No reason. Just because. I don't know what happened and I'm only 23 but sometimes I feel like my life is spent. My dreams have been dreamt. But sometimes...
...if I try hard enough, I can remember...
Friday, October 24, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Because I can feel everything (or so it seems), I want to get involved in everything but the reality is, I am human and I cannot do it all. I'm never satisfied. It's an insatiable hunger and it leaves me undone. I know May's anguish and distress too well. I often disguise my affliction behind humor and sarcasm but those that truly know can see. When it gets to be too much, I retreat...
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
He is a man of few words choosing them every so carefully. We stand together in the silence of night staring into the sky until he says, "I adore you." He never looked away from the stars but he smiles and a dimple graces his face.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
He squated and leaned over. His locks tickled my back. In my ear, he said, "You're lucky I'm not the jealous type." His daring tone resonated. His lips rested against my face and my mind went blank--again. I looked up at him while searching for the words. I never found them.
Friday, October 10, 2008
I know you may be wondering why I bothered to post this picture. I found myself wondering the same thing while typing but I simply love this wavy mess of hair on my head! Sorry if you don't share my enthusiasm. Now that I think about it, I'm a little obsessive about my hair. I don't let anyone else style it because I have a style all my own. Besides, I figure, 'Why pay someone else to do what I can do myself?' So, if it can't be done between me and my mom, it just won't be done to this "head of hair." That's what she [my mom] calls it. I'm clearly just rambling now while I wait for him to call me back. Yeah, that's right. I said him. I've got a new one. I won't call him my muse or T.O.N.Y. yet but the text he sent me today still has me pondering.
When we met, I thought heaven must have lost an angel 'cause I could see it pointing at me thru ur blouse.
Boggled is my mind. I'm not quite sure what that means and I think that's what intrigues me. I know they say curiousity killed the cat but the funny thing is, I was wearing a dress!!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Diggin’ this energy and well aware that this will never stay between just you and me because I can barely contain myself. Here I am, head over heels, heels over head, and nose wide open. Mine prefers your scent over any other. But you’re unavailable right now so I’ll leave this message after the tone-- yours deep, rich, and resonating through the drums in my ear. The cadence heavy on the 808 and careful not to bust the tweeter--yet.
**Beep** I know you hear me calling, the inflection in my voice rising and falling. Intonation. Articulation. Modulation.
You study my instrumental melody. There are no words even close to my lips. But the sudden dip in my hips sends you to the next bar. This sixteen just as euphonious as the first. Almost reaching the pinnacle but not yet. Pause. Run the tape back, flip it, and turn up the treble.
This message is getting long. Let the machine stop. There’s no need for its technology. My voice coming through crystal clear and almost loud enough for the neighbors to hear--you playing my song. Tune’s stuck in my head--over and over again. No words. Just sound. Pounding the speakers and I’m riding the beat.
Far from ignorant of bliss like this and hooked on your refrain….
Monday, October 6, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
But I can't help but wonder if I'm wrong in my way of thinking. I mean, he's my father.
These are my thoughts on love. I believe in love-- nothing more and nothing less. After all, God is love.
I love every day and every breath. For it is a blessing, God's gift, and I am thankful.
Love is a verb. Just do it!