The Kokopelli Diaries

And Awaaaaay We go

2012-01-02T23:59:00.001-05:00

Weight: 156 (yowzers)
Medications: prescription vitamins and vitamin D Supplement
Drinks: Beringer Red Moscato (life changing)
Food indulgences: nothing in particular just too much of everything

Hey y'all,

Haven't blogged in a while. Just wanted to give a bit of an overview of 2011 and a preview of 2012.

2011 was pretty darn good. I have a great job at Capital City Public Charter School . It's been a long time since I haven't looked for another job after 6 months of starting a new one.

I have been in two magazines both Marie Claire and Essence.

I was in one production (...and you're just not good enough) a performance piece about rejection. I also have done stand up at Slim's Comedy Show and a couple of poetry open mics.

My boys are doing well. Damion is taking piano lessons and is just beginning to learn to play with two hands. He is becoming an avid reader, which I love to see. He also is getting to be quite the procrastinator and his school work has suffered. I know longer can leave him to his own devices in regards to homework, I have to be on him to make sure it gets done. It's such a drag for us both.

Justice is good. He got drums for Christmas and we have been doing lessons via youtube. It seems like he is a natural. Here is a video of him doing beat boxing.

He is definitely a disorganized and scattered kid, as is his mother. I am going to focus on helping him developed good structures and habits that will help.

I have been dating pretty regularly I guess. If someone tells you there's a shortage of black men out there, dey is a lie! I never have problems finding them, it's just a matter of finding one that I want to date more than once or twice. I have been pretty good about separating myself from folks who don't make me feel the way I want to. I just recently had to do that. It's a scary thing to go it alone, but it is better than being with someone that you know isn't good for you, or isn't respecting you as he should be. I'd say more but I'm saving it for my stand up routine (this Thursday! Jan 5th at the Red Lounge).

Which brings me to the preview of 2012. It promises to be a blast. Damion has first piano recital in January. I may have something for Justice to show off his skills for the family in May at the house. Drums aren't something that can easily travel.

I am in a new performance art piece called "Night Sweats". I play The Moss Lady, a swamp thing that feeds on passersby in the swamps of Florida. I just had my first read through tonight. It is going to be so horrifying and beautiful. Here take a look see at the production group the EMP Collective and to find out more about the production. Click here.

I'm going to continue to do stand-up at least monthly. It's the most difficult, scary, yet exhilarating thing ever. It's not something I'm innately good at, so I am pushing myself through the fear and mediocrity to make myself better.

I am also applying for the principalship of my school. We'll see how that goes. I know I am ready for it, and have learned how to balance my school life and artistic life. So here goes nothing and everything at once!

Writing wise, I will post here every now and again. I am going to work on a script. I am going to start January 15th. I think I am more visual and the story I've been trying to write will translate better on the stage. It might be a one woman show, i'm not sure yet. I will continue to post here intermittently. I am also going to do a 365 photography project. My friend Laura did it and I think it was wonderful. It will encourage me to write a bit everyday and take time to take in my surroundings. I'll probably do it through tumblr. I will link it when the site is up.

thanks for listening. I'm off to bed as I need to start up my exercise regimen again. Gotta get below 150. Man listen, my thighs have gotten right indignant and are just growin' all willy nilly.

see yall in person or on the internets.

2011-11-01T10:03:00.000-04:00

On Divorce and Dating

So she told me, “he just got divorced and is dating…heavily.”

My sister says that probably means he has the “herps”. (yes, I spelled it like she said it). But I know the deal. When you get divorced you feel like you must date the whole world to confirm you are not a failure. See look how attractive I am, people think I’m fun, people want to have sex with me. So I decided I would let him alone. Well mostly. I am a flirter so, yeah. We had an awkward conversation once at a party. I couldn’t shake the words, “he probably has the herps.” out of my mind. Thanks alot darling sister…

When I dated the other and he ran for the 2nd time, I realized this “herps” is a real thing. This I am super scared and I’m gonna date and sex myself whole again. I’m gonna protect my feelings at all cost just in case this one means to burn my feelings already turned raw. I will protect myself from you at all cost. Wrap myself in insecurity and dare you to try to love me through it. This is my new definition of the herps.

And as falsely brave you are it just keeps coming back. It comes back because you want it to. Because it is important. Sometimes you need yourself protected. You don’t want the heaviness that “relationships” or “caring” brings. Sometimes you just aren’t strong enough or ready enough.

Sometimes you want them to get so wrapped up in your perfectly shaped ass that they don’t go around looking for your heart. (and by “you” I mean of course “me”) Which is just crazy talk, because what perfectly sane, perfectly whole person doesn’t want someone to search for their heart?

It just keeps coming back

It just keeps coming back until one day it doesn’t. The one day when you find yourself looking for someone’s heart so intensely that you forget to stop hiding yours. That’s when you’re free

Early Morning Daydream

2011-10-18T22:36:00.006-04:00

Arriving at Penn Station after a lovely train ride to Manhattan. I grab my vintage pink suitcase and look around to see if I see your face. Not seeing any recognizable smiles, I head upstairs and out the doors, taking care not to use the revolving door because they scare me. I set down my suitcase and sit on it to people watch and do my best Audrey Hepburn impression.

Finally, I see you rushing through the crowds of slow moving tourists and fast-moving city-dwellers. You reach me and take my hand and give me a huge hug as you apologize for being late. We hail a cab that takes me, you, and my suitcase to Harlem. The streets are awfully wide and I try not to look very small town and I look at all the buildings rush by. I tell you they remind me of the fronts of the buildings I recognize from the Cosby Show. You laugh and tell me I watch too much TV.

We reach your apartment and you take my suitcase to the back room. I go to the bathroom to freshen up, which means I wash my hands and face, reapply my lip gloss and perfume, and shuzsh my hair.

When I emerge from the bathroom you take my hand and give me another big hug. You ask if I’m hungry and I look at you crazily because you know very well that I am always hungry. We grasp hands and walk together down to the street. We go about five blocks as we talk about whats new and my train ride and about your morning and afternoon. We reach a restaurant that you promise has delicious food. We sit down, order and short time after begin to eat. I am relieved that you were right. You know how bad food makes me angry.

We finish our food, pay the check and go back out onto the street. By this time it is dark. Strolling through the city you suggest we go to one of your favorite bars. It is a dive bar with good strong drinks and a very “urban” atmosphere. I chuckle at your use of the word “urban”.

We get to the bar and sit down on deceptively comfy barstools. I order a Jack Honey neat, and you order some beer I’ve never heard of. We begin to drink and talk. We tell stories about each of our worlds, some funny and some tragic. This talking is easy, which scares me and delights me all at the same time. I want to know everything about you…

Before we know it, last call is called. We head back out and walk back to your apartment, laughing and talking and still holding hands.

Mimosas, Comfy Japanese Seating, and Revolutionary Suicide: my weekend in 4 Acts

2011-06-20T12:37:00.004-04:00

So this weekend I had a lovely brunch with some lovely ladies. We talked about boys and colonics, not necessarily in that order. Oh yes, there were mimosas as well. Look at how pretty we are:

Oh here is another one with more of us:

Then I went home to take a bit of a nappy poo. Alcohol, even mimosas, are a depressant, dontcha know. When I woke up I texted the bff. I told him I needed to see him today, he said he had a shoot in an hour, but I should come. Psssh! really? But I didn't have any other plans so I went for what I thought was just going to be a short visit. We just hung out, he on the computer me drinking a smidge of Jack Honey on one of the big round circular chairs. (What is it called? a papa san, piesan, well something with a p and a form of japanese suffix *shrugs*) Played some cards, video games; it was very comfortable . . .This isn't a picture from the actual time, but it captures my mood.

He never went to the shoot. Maybe he meant 9 the next morning. Or maybe he was so enthralled with my company, that he decided not to leave. Haha! For my ego sake I shall believe the latter. I'm getting very comfortable with him... Anyway, good times were had. The next morning I saw a great movie about Huey P. Newton. Produced and Directed by Spike Lee. It was a biography, one man show type thing. Roger Guenveur Smith was brilliant. He wrote and performed it. It was every. possible. thing.. Inspired me to get back to writing. I love when art inspires art...now I just have to follow through.

So I leave to go pick up the boys and go to my sister's for Sunday bbq for my dad. As we are walking to our respective cars I mention how hungry I was and that he needs to have food at his house. He tells me he had food, and if I wanted some I should have asked. I tell him that I am always hungry and he should note that for later. He says that if I want something, I should ask, and I should remember that for next time. Funny that was the same advice the girls told me at brunch...
Left in a great mood!

Went to pick up the boys. Their father was in for the weekend. The youngest in charge cried when we left. He is missing his father. The only reason this is of note is that usually he doesn't react like that. Usually its the older one that gets all weepy. But the older one seems to be more cavalier, not to mention he wants to change his name back to my maiden name. It's funny how I'm way more comfortable with resentment than sadness. When I see Justice crying, it breaks my heart. His father promises to come back soon. I'm not sure how true that is. Why does life have to be so complicated? In the van, I offer Justice a cookie. Then I feel instant guilt because I might have just taught him that food helps take sadness away. If he becomes one of those morbidly obese shut ins you see on the TLC channel, I have no one to blame but myself.

It is my job to make sure these children are happy. That is super hard job when some not so happy things happen. But I have to remember that staying with their father would have created much more sadness and violence. Gosh, I need a cookie. Or maybe a colonic...

UPDATED: its totally called a "papasan" chair. I am brilliant and also a very adept googler. Here is a pic of the aforementioned comfy "japansese chair". You should get one, your bottom will thank you

The Death Of Gil Scott Heron or Why I can't get out of bed this morning

2011-05-28T08:11:00.001-04:00

I don't know why I can't shake this weird feeling in my stomach.

I am not sad really. Not suprised at all, but I'm just feeling altogether strange. My teeth clenched for hours. Woke up with my whole face hurting.

When I was young Gil Scott Heron music was played in our apartment. I remember my dad playing his music. He had his album. The one with him with the funky shades looking straight at you. He used to tease my mom about the revolution not being televised, when she was particularly caught up in some tv program. He said the same thing to us..."The revolution will NOT be televised, so turn that tv off!"

I remember thinking that I didn't particularly want to see the revolution anyway.

Any picture of my sister and I that my dad took were of us with our fists in the air. We had no idea why he made us pose that way. But there we were two little girls, 6 and 8 with one fist in the air, saying cheese for their daddy.

Fast forward to middle and high school. I had caught the writing bug and was writing all sorts of lame poetry. In high school I refused to stand for the pledge of allegiance. I was sent out of the room one day when we were in a different homeroom and the teacher took offense to my own private revolution. Told me if I didn't like America I should "move to Russia". I told my dad and he said that that was ridiculous, you can love your country but hate what its done to its people. You can want it to be better, without having to move to Russia.

Now that I think about it, that same teacher was forced into retirement years later after calling someone a nigger. (For my BHS folks, Remember Mr. Replane)

Anyway Gil Scott Heron and my father were part of my revolutionary development. He is the reason why I scoff at some of these wanna be revolutionaries, who look for all the conspiracies, spit venom on the mic, railing against the machine. These so called revolutionary artist who reject love and reject patriotism and reject God because thats the revolutionary thing to do. Gil Scott Heron was a critic of this country, but he loved his country. He wanted it to be better. He wanted us to be better. He wrote from his heart. It was straight with no chaser . . .

Gil Scott Heron was also a musician. And it has always fascinated me, this concept of mixing aritistic media to create one piece of art. Its why I try so hard to be good at trying different kinds of things. Its why I write and play violin and want to learn cello and act. I guess its like that part in The Color Purple..."it just wants to be loved"

No one is shocked that Gil Scott is dead. As with many artists, their desparate expression of their art is often not enough to quiet the voices, heal their wounds, not enough to make people understand . . .Its the addiction, the addiction, its like a pool you dive in to feel free, a pit to wallow in, to say goodbye for a while only to resurface after being hidden long enough to fight the pain just a little longer. Its how you gird yourself agains the tragedy that is this world. It's hard to be brave, sometimes impossible when you brain and heart allows you to feel things so acutely. The gift and the curse . . . it is also that trait that makes the artist create so honestly

Many of us have worked through our own demons. But I have my own revolution to fight. And I know that raising my boys, loving my family, and making a difference is the revolution that I must fight and win. I am writing and creating and acting as though my life depended on it. And really it does . . .

A bird in hand can get pretty messy Or If I was your girlfriend

2011-05-16T13:13:00.000-04:00

Weight: 145 lbs. (I really need to start doing something if this happiness continues)
Drinks: Jack Honey, mmm good.
Food indulgences: hmm, none, I swear . . .
Meds: none

So I blogged a while ago about my changing my last name back to Gray, but I have been thinking alot about the power of the title one is given by another. I have heard many people say that a relationship is not dictated by a title. "I don't need a piece of paper to say we're married", or "I don't need a piece of paper to say i'm divorced" (psshhh) I have also heard many reasons not to post relationship status on facebook. All of which I get, really I do. However, I do believe that there is power in the title you give someone.

For example, the word wife, husband, boyfriend, boo, jump-off, side-chick, girl I see sometimes, BFF, etc all come with a certain amount of security and expectations that come along with it. Let me explain my situation and perhaps someone can shed some light on the sitchiatshun:

I'm dating a guy. He's cool. We hang. I like him alot. I like him to the point that I have not seen other people and turned down dates so I can see him. He is NOT my boyfriend. I have been advised that I should just enjoy this for what it is and not to put any expectations on him. Just let it be . . .and I"m trying really I am . . .

Last week I was going to see him. Made plans and everything. I get a text from my BFF (James Dean). I of course say no, because I would rather see Darnell (aka beau, i think that names dumb so i've made up a new alias) and also because we have made tentative plans. However, the plans fall through, I end up hanging alone, and James is now put off because this is the 2nd time i've not been open to him coming over. So I'm pissed. I have the right to be, because, come on dude we made plans and you are breaking them. And as you might expect from my dating/marital history, breaking a word is something that I HATE! but also, I am uncomfortable because we are just dating, he is not my boyfriend, and during this period I know that it should be "all good" and I should do what I can not to make a big stink about it. I mean if we can't get along now . . .

And certain family members think its absolutely wrong for me to continue to see James (even though he is super cute and the coolest dude evah) because I know its not going anywhere and I know I am relegated to "girl I see sometimes" to him. If I was Darnell's girlfriend, I wouldn't think twice about turning down James' offers. But doing so, makes me feel like I'm being dumb. Especially if Mr. fall asleep and break a date is still dating other people. Moreover, if I was Darnell's girlfriend, I would feel more comfortable giving him the full wrath of my displeasure. There is a security in the word girlfriend. We can argue and still be fine. But in my effort to make things all good, I settle for just being brief on the email and acceptance of "im sorry, I'll make it up to you". I guess i'm just afraid of letting it loose. But is that kinda like a "bait and switch"?

I mean remember what I went through with the Nigerian? One argument and he's all "I don't think we make sense together".

But I need to have at least some expectation for someone who is choosing to be in my life regardless of the title. But goodness I like him alot and I'm afraid that he will fall short of the expectations that maybe I shouldn't put on him in the first place. I guess I am not as full of faith and optimism as I thought.

And I have no idea how to continue dating other people, but moving forward with someone else. How to do that without feeling like a jezebel. In other words, a bird, in hand is worth two in the bush, but when you ain't got nobody in hand, how do you maintain a bushful of birds?

In short, I have no idea what I'm doing. And maybe thats okay...and I would like to be a girlfriend, but i'm pretty sure that will lessen my dating options. Just joking, mostly. The real question is do I want to be a girlfriend or do I want to be his girlfriend...I guess time will tell. But patience isn't my best quality

Life of a Single Mother on Mother's Day

2011-05-08T14:46:00.000-04:00

Weight: 147 lbs (shut it)
Drinks of choice: Jack Daniels Honey and Firefly Sweet tea vodka
Medication: none

I decided to pick up my blog on Mother's Day. I am journaling about my day so far as I think some things have happened which illustrate nicely what its like to be a single, divorced mother on Mother's Day. It is sometimes hard and frustrating, but most times hilarious and wonderful. Ok here goes

12:14 am: Come home from a night with Beau. There was an event we went to earlier. A kind of nerd prom with food but no liquor. But I brought my flask so it was okay. Kids with Ms. Nike (the overnight sitter who has changed my social life; don't think I ever blogged about her).

12:30 am Sitting and talking with beau, sippin a little something. I like him. Of all the random dudes that ogle my facebook photos, e-flirt, and proposition me, he is the one that follows up, that shows up, and man's up. Honest to say what he wants and what he doesn't and who I am sure if he didn't want something I was offering, would tell me so. Our conversation is easy. He knows The Nigerian. that made me nervous. What I like about beau is his optimism, I didn't want The Nigerian's ardent pessimism and emotional laziness to rub off on him. Thinking of that nearly gave me an anxiety attack. But I texted brandi and she talked me down. If he is that easily swayed I don't want beau anyway. And its best that I just enjoy him now as he is. worrying will just waste the time I'm with him, and I really don't want to do that. Because I enjoy him, yes indeed I do.

1:00 am Um enjoying, enjoying or um, none of ur gosh darn business

2:00 am: sleeping and waking intermittently. Beau is very different from James Dean. James Dean can and does sleep curled up in my arms or me in his. always touching, which is nice and I've learned to like. Beau just wants to sleep. I can dig it . . .

7:00 am see 1:00 am

7:35 am off to pick up the kiddos. Ms. Nike is a regular church goer and she goes to early service. I don't want to burn any bridges! Gotta get those kids. I promise to pay her on payday. She says "of course, that is fine" Yes, must keep Ms. Nike happy. Who else will babysit on credit?

8:00 am Driving back to the house. I listen to the boys' recount their night. Evidently there were video games and building houses involved. I like that they like to go to the sitter. It eases my guilt.

8:15 set the kids up with some snacks and the tv. I'm still a little tired and want to get a couple hours of sleep. Let's see if this works

8:45 am Justice says he forgot his video game in the car. I give him the keys to unlock the van. Damion Jr. comes to chastise me for letting Justice have the keys. It's like he feels he is raising Justice with me. Maybe he is. Justice arrives back in the house with the video game and my keys. Justice is becoming a big boy. I point that out to Damion Jr. He just shrugs . . .

9:08 am Deejay asks me to cut up the mangos that are in the refrigerator. I told him to please let me wait until later. I remind him that its mothers day and I should be able to sleep in. He tells me he will be back.

9: 30 am Justice comes up and says he forgot the game card that goes in the video game in the van. He wants to go get it. I tell him its the last time i'm giving him my keys. He goes and comes back without incident.

10:00 am: Justice comes up and lays down in the bed with me. I can tell he's been eating candy. His breath smells like chocolate. He wants to take pictures with the phone. It is confirmed he's been eating chocolate when I look at the picture we took... check the wide eyes

10:15 am: Damion joins us (it's hard for me to keep putting the jr. but y'all don't know the sr. anyway, so just know when I say Damion I mean my son. When I say asshole, I mean my ex-husband). Damion gets on my computer. I ask if there's nothing on tv. Damion says, well you're more fun. Yeah right. . .Damion goes on some video game site, Justice continues to play his video game. They just want to be in my space and I'm cool with that. I remember laying in my mothers bed, not doing anything, not wanting anything besides being in her space. I drift off to a very shallow sleep . . .

10:43 am receive a text from Fred. He says he feels some kinda way about my facebook status. I was reminiscing about my time with beau and was missing the feel of him during my nap. Fred says that he is away and instead of sending a personal msg to him, I sent a status to all my random "snuggle partners" Now he knows I'm a one woman gal, but I think that it is more comfortable for him to believe i'm just hanging around with a bunch of nobody's because he is away. If he was ready or available or even said to me that he only wanted to be with me, this wouldn't be an issue. But that is not the case. I was thinking of beau and I wrote about him. You snooze you lose, buddy.

12:00 noon: I wake up. Can't legitimize being in the bed past noon. Even on Mothers Day. I get up. I mow the backyard. Fix food for the dog and let him outside. I join the dog outside. he is playing and I can tell he's bewildered at the fact the grass is cut. He immediately goes behind the shed to do his business...he's so dainty that way.

12:30 poor some Jack Honey and commence social networking . . .

12: 52 Holly, my sister, facebook chats me. She doesn't have her kids today. Hannah is with the grandparents, Carly is with her father. Yeah she rocks for having an ex-husband who actual visits and takes care of his child. It's a shame my sons don't have that. She says she's bored. She doesn't have kids with her, but I do. It's always the way. Everytime I have don't have kids, I also don't have plans. It's the Jesus' plan to keep me all chaste and bored . . .

1:15 Holly says she's fitna get dressed and come over. She evidently has something to tell me that is big and heavy. "Well, " I said, "Come on over. You know I'm here . . ."

2:35 pm: Someone knocks at the door. Its some kid wanting Damion to come outside. When Damion goes out, they give each other "dap" or "a pound". Ugh I just... I can't . . . Time flies like a mofo . . .

I Love You and Other Lies Boys Tell

2010-11-28T15:47:00.001-05:00

"Took me out to wine, dine, sixty-nine me, but didn't hear a damn word I said. I see right through you." Alanis Morrisette

I'm going to be 38 in two weeks. I've dated, been married, divorced, and now dating again. When I first got divorced, it was hard to picture myself totally by myself. Yet I found myself alone with two children and a dog. (and also several mice, but thats a previous blog altogether) I enjoy dating, I really do. Sometimes I read my past blogs and I get on my own nerves. But things tend to happen that are pretty bloggable. And yes I am the constant in that equation (as a certain Jerky McJerkerson pointed out). But well sometimes I think, I choose wrong just for the excitement and a story to tell afterward. . .

Check this out

I met a boy. He is an artist (shut up, I know) We talked online. One day he asked to come over. I said that it was a bad idea. He said it would be fine. He would come over, we would watch a movie and we would cuddle and then he would go home before the boys woke up. I said sure, because you don't find many who understands that they have to be gone before the kiddos wake up. I mean the therapy costs alone...

So he came over and did what he said. It was nice. Just company. So every weekend almost after that, he would come over we'd "watch a movie" and then he would go home. Sometimes I would go over to his place. He made me waffles in the morning. His apartment was like a vacation. Movies, cuddling, breakfast, silence. So after a couple of months of this, I got curious. That is a bad sign. that means I'm getting attached. I want to know about him, meet his mom and what not. *sigh* the beginning of the end. At any rate, I noticed that he always came over super late. It started to bother me. It bothered me to the point that I said that I was tired of being secret girl he saw late at night. It was cool for a while, but a person with half a heart wants more than just that. He said, "ok". I was pissed. I guess I expected him to put up a fight, to say he'd do better. no such luck. Then I asked him to send me the beautiful pictures he took of me. And he told me he deleted them. I was furious. Those were the best photos I'd ever taken. So raw and beautiful..gone. And so I do what I do what I always do. I threw a text tantrum. Oh the curses I used...

But the next day he said, "are you too mad to play scrabble?" And we played online scrabble just like the old days. I was impressed. No one ever survived a text tantrum except the Nigerian, and everyone knows he's the love of my life (shut up).

But I think, that he was a little late on the complete damage I did with my text tantrum, that may or may not have gotten back to facebook, allegedly. Now its the silent treatment which only rivals plucking my leg hair one by one to the level of torture that is....gosh. I guess thats over now...

Meanwhile back at the boy bunny ranch:

So I was talking to my other friend (Fred) and complaining about how boys want to have secret late night sex relationships and that was all. He said, "I know what you mean. I am coming to your birthday party. I can't wait to see you." I thought that was the sweetest thing ever. Maybe I had mis-judged him. Then he said, "I know what will make you feel better." And then he sent me a picture of his penis. Sigh . . .

So there is another boy, Aloyoisus St. Dexter. We went to college together. I met him on the streets one day, and we went to lunch a day later. Super sweet. We talked and ate and drank. And then he went back to Jamaica. He is cool and a west indian (I SAID SHUT UP). But he is in Jamaica. We talk and laugh on the phone and over skype, but who is to know what he would be like if we were in each other's space all the time. Murphys Law is a bitch I tellya.

Anyways, my birthday is coming up. I have an awesome dress, and about to order some fuck me pumps. However, none of that will be going down. But it is cool that they want it to. I just wish someone would like to talk and play board games too. Maybe a little drunk bop it (funnest game ever). The Nigerian is coming....here's hoping that nothing happens....

Unexpected Waffles (beginning of a short story)

2010-09-13T12:28:00.000-04:00

ts okay you know.

Its okay for there to be quiet. I relax in the silence that your space provides. Looking out of the window and seeing the rain and fog in the early morning, settling into the makeshift bed in the middle of the space where you create, I feel hidden. Not ready to get up and make my way in the world that has been created for me. I turn and look at you with your funny face and strong arms. You seem so strange sometimes, and I am curious about who you are. But I am glad for you just to be here, just to be who you are, whoever that may be. I know it is what it is and nothing more, but I appreciate this little thing. This little space. This silence. The rain against the window and the unexpected waffles.

BBBBRRRRRRRIIIING! The alarm sounded and she turned to grab her phone. 5:30am. Stretching she turned on the light and sat up in bed. She regarded the pills on the bedside table with irritation, reached for the glass to get water, then thought better of it and turned to get 15 more minutes of sleep . . .

Stuff that happened while I wasn't on the internet

2010-09-07T14:18:00.000-04:00

weight: 138.7 lbs
alcohol: tried some pineapple vodka
and am mixing it with EVERYTHING
food indulgences: ramen noodle kick
medication: 0 lexapros but reconsidering . . .(had 3 anxiety attacks and been sleeping too much)

It's been a minute. I decided to put back up the titles for how I start off these personal narrative blogs, just for those who are new followers and also because I haven't done it in a while. I chose those things to keep track of because those are the things that usually indicate how well or not so well my life is going.

Soooo, I'm at a new school this year. (surprise) Ahem, this school is great. The people are inviting and most of all it seems that they could benefit from things that I am good at. I think I am needed and that is always good. I loved my old job, but the people were kind of mean. And I don't like feeling anxious or depressed going to work. Upside, I had a great summer off with the kids. Downside, I didn't work at all and i am behind the 8 ball with my bills. It will all work out eventually i'm sure.

Let's see. things in the romance department are going swimmingly. I have learned a few things about myself. I often can get what I want if I ask for it. Opening myself up to somebody else is scary but necessary. Also I have learned that absence makes the heart forget who you are. no bullshit. that grow fonder nonsense is for the birds or folks who enjoy playin damn games. (ahem)

Oh yeah. I was in a play this summer. It was at the Atlas Theater and part of the DC Black Theater Festival. It was great, you can see some pictures from it here. I'm going to do the general auditions for LOWT and BTA. I'm hoping to do a play a year during the spring/summer season. I enjoy getting random extra checks for doing something I love.

So I was walking to lunch today and I saw two birds. They were nicely sharing a huge piece of bread they had found. Then one bird flew across the street with the whole piece of bread in its beak, leaving the other bird behind empty handed. The bird hopped a couple of times toward the curb, but then turned around and pecked at some other pieces of trash on the sidewalk.
The lesson: Sometimes you have to let people go they're own way, but you are never left truly empty handed.

I knew an old lady who swallowed a fly

2010-06-29T15:59:00.002-04:00

I did something really awful yesterday and I need to get it off my chest.

I willingly allowed someone to accidentally swallow a fly. Willingly and willfully.

A lady was sitting at a table at work. She pulled out a donut. She was talking to a couple of folks in the room. As she was talking, she had her phone in one hand and the donut in the other. A fly landed on the donut. In my head I wondered if she would throw the donut away because the fly landed on it. Then I realized that she didn't see the fly. So then I thought, I wonder if she will see it before she eats it. I wonder if she will shoo it away and eat it anyway.

After she finished talking, she raised the donut to her mouth. By this time I was wondering which side of the donut she would eat. The fly side or the clear side. As it got closer to her mouth, I knew she was about to eat that fly. I think it might have been stuck on the glaze. Now I was completely fascinated.

She put the donut to her mouth and took a big bite. When her hand came down with the donut, the fly and the part of the donut it was resting on was gone. She ate it.

I said nothing. She ate a fly and I let her. I wonder if it was crunchy? I wonder why I let that happen. I can't even ask her what it tasted like. What a waste . . .

Black Writer's Reunion and Conference

2010-06-25T09:22:00.002-04:00

Day 1:

I knew I should have blogged the night of the first conference day. I always forget important stuff when I put it off. But I shall do my best.

I went to "Learning to Layer" by Dr. Venise Berry who talked about avoiding some pitfalls new writer's have (e.g. lack of precision and clarity, unnecessary words, long words when short ones will do, etc) I actively work on avoiding these things in my writing. But I did learn something through the workshop,

Lesson 1: Revise, Revise, Revise! I think a lot of writing is "talent" but a good portion of it is hard work. I try to rely on talent, whip out a quick 5 pages and expect it to be awesome. Which in my opinion happens about 50% of the time. I blame the instant gratification of blog posting and facebook where I post my stuff. I don't usually go back to make it better. I think this explains why even though I write some pretty good stuff, alot of the things I submit gets turned down. I even submit stuff knowing I need to fix some things, but I submit without revising anyway. It's a habit I intend to break.

At the conference there are basically two kinds of writers. There are folks who write "urban fiction" and everybody else. I'm not going to get into the difference between them because that would take a whole blog and I'm trying to be less verbose (lesson 1.5) but check out day 2 reflections . . .

During the workshop we had an activity where we had to build around a sentence. The sentence was "This time was different". Here was my layered paragraph:

Slumped over, legs askew nursing a bruise on her cheek. She realized that she was surrounded by multi-colored daisies. It struck her beautiful. But this time was different. This time the flowers were projectiles used to release rage. Her husband had arrived home and caught her in a position that warranted the opposite of a surprise bouquet. But now she was left alone, surrounded by flower petals still falling from her face and hair. What a strange yet beautiful weapon.

I love writing exercises. I'm learning to respect the craft more. I am trying to delay gratification and resting on my random acts of awesome. I'm learning that as confident as I am, I am still afraid to read my work aloud. I am discovering I am a writing snob. I am learning that talking to folks about writing is just about the most fun in the world.

Day 2: The Rise and Fall and Rise Again of the "Urban Fiction" Writer Stay Tuned!

The Best Date Ever

2010-05-23T22:45:00.001-04:00

So a few months ago when the blizzard hit the east coast, I was confronted with the daunting task of shoveling out my car. Now for those of you who were in the blizzard know, this was no ordinary snow fall. The snow was measured in feet not inches. As a now single mom, there was no one to help shovel out the snow. So I got my tools together and went out to tackle the job. After 20 minutes, I had made some good progress. My arms were burning, my nose running, and despite the frigid temperatures I was drenched in sweat. Just when I was about to take a break inside, this beautiful man comes up to me shovel in hand and says, "do you need any help?"

I tried to hold in the back flips, and I calmly said, "any help you can give would be greatly appreciated." So together we shoveled out my car. He flagged down the guy with the bobcat clearing our apartment parking lot and it cleared out the rest of my space after I had wiggled my huge car free from the spot. I thanked him profusely and went back inside to warm up and gain the feeling back in my toes.

Since that time, upstairs neighbor guy and I exchanged pleasantries and smiles. For the past month or so, i've noticed him waiting for me to get out of my car so he can say hello. So I decide to take this to the next level. I was growing bored of the pleasantries, the smiles, the looks, I wanted to know what this dude wanted for real. So I got up the nerve to put a note on the car. The note said:

Hi neighbor!
I never got the chance to appropriately thank you for helping me shovel out my "tank" during the blizzard. How about you let me buy you a beer or something.

Signed,
your downstairs neighbor
Michele

I left my number below my name. That very night he calls and says he would LOVE to go out for a beer. We talk a bit and make plans for the next week. During the week leading up to our "date" he would stop me to say hello and repeat how he couldn't wait to go out, how he was so looking forward to our beer.

So Friday night, we meet at a bar near my (our) apartment. We order drinks and food. Conversation was good. It was an easy flow to it. When he laughed at any of the several hilarious things I said, he'd playfully nudge my leg or touch my arm. So as we were finding out about each other, he shared that he didn't get out much because he has a 3 1/2 month old daughter.

Wow, 3 1/2 months is a new baby. So that slows me down a bit. But we continue talking and laughing. I mean hey, babies happen. It doesn't mean that he and baby's mama are still together and did I mention we were having a great time.

So I ask him, "So, who all lives upstairs with you?" He says, well its me and Leyla (my daughter) and Paula, my wife.

Um, excuse me say what now?

Yep, I heard him correctly. He lives upstairs with his wife and daughter.

So I'm wondering, "Am I reading too much into this date? Maybe it isn't a date at all. Maybe its just a friendly beer between neighbors." But he was all touching my leg and arm and what not. Laughing at everything I said. I'm funny, but not that durn funny. I have two choices, either I can say if you are married, what the hell are you doing at a bar with your female neighbor without your wife. Or I can not say anything and assume that it is I that have misread this whole situation.

I decide on the latter and finish this "date". I finish my cocktail and I tell him that I have to make it over to my friends house before 11. We are walking out together, still talking. He is giving me his recipe for sangria. After we find my car, I turn to him to tell him good night. He takes one step towards me. He says it was great and thank you so much for inviting him out. That note really brightened his day. I said, oh your welcome, it was fun and my pleasure. I take a step back. He takes a larger step towards me. I can feel his jeans on the side of my leg. This dude is actually moving in for a goodbye kiss. I take a step back and tell him goodnight again and turn to walk to my car. So yeah, this situation is crystal clear. Mr. Upstairs Neighbor is a married man, father of a new baby girl, out on a date with some woman, while his wife is at home taking care of their child.

I don't understand people sometimes. I don't think I understand men most of the times. I wasted a good two hours of my life and I want it back, asshole. Maybe I should put that in a note and leave it on his car . . .

A Flower Pot is Not a Hat

2010-04-28T11:06:00.002-04:00

Weight: 141 lbs (trying not to freak out)
Drinks: Countless mimosas at the Bens Next Door (there should definitely be a warning)
Food: eh nothing special

I'm not sure why I've named this blog A Flower Pot Is Not a Hat . It was one of my favorite books growing up. It still has some wisdom that is seldom found in books for grown folks.

A flower pot is not a hat
But if you put it on your head
it is

A stair is not a bed
but if you lay on it
and take a nap
it is

I actually wanted to discuss a string of bad luck i've been having. I guess I don't really believe in luck. But there have been a definite trend lately.

Bad things tend to come in threes. And good things come peppered throughout. They distract you from the bad things. Then all of a sudden the second bad thing happens and you're awakened to the fact that you're in the middle of this badmind trio.

Thats where I am at right now, waiting for the 3rd bad thing. In the middle of experiencing a new focus to my writing, an article in the September issue of Marie Claire, vacation planning and photo shoots, comes the first thing: "Im sorry ma'am but until the next court date there's nothing we can do."

Then new career paths, job opportunities and new friends comes thing number 2: "Mommy why are all the lights off?" and "I'm so sorry ma'am since the account is not in your name we can't even discuss this with you."

Yes, two "sorry ma'ams" in the same month. Not a good sign at all. The third thing is coming, I can feel it. But I suppose its all in how you deal with things. Your perspective. I usually find myself trying to force some more good things to happen to thwart # 3. But I know better now. Its best just to let it happen and deal with the third thing, and wait patiently for good things 6-24 to make it better. I know it and they will come. It will happen organically I just have to let things be. Because after all,

A bad thing is not a crisis
But if you agonize and hide from it
it is

Frosted Shredded Wheat

2010-04-18T21:30:00.003-04:00

137 lbs
haven't cooked all week
last week cooked everyday (tho that was poverty induced)
3 words: Mo Scat OH

So what up y'all? It's been a minute. So I thought I'd drop a proper blog to catch up. Hmmmm so whats been up with me?

I tried out for the When Harlem Came to Paris extraveganza by Lil So So Productions . I wrote an essay and she called and said she would like me to be a part. Ha! what do you think of that. I tried and it worked out. It was a great night and I looked fabulous. I may rethink the whole natural girl no make up thing cuz jeez it makes a heck of a difference. Maybe not skin but definitely eyes. Oh and I had to perform a bit too. I wasn't scared at all and I think I did okay. So much so that I was brave enough to do open mic a couple of weeks ago. And I know I did more than okay. Talent is confirmed. Feeling pretty confident. I did a few more brave things:

submitted work to DC Writer's competition (i'm still in the running made it through first round)
submitted work to Poet Lore and Poetry online mag
submitted story to The Sun

I am also being brave personally. I'm making new friends. Putting myself out there and so far so good. I also am trying to make better choices in dating. I figure it this way: I get so jazzed everytime I meet someone new or reconnect with someone. Then reality sets in and I realize that not everyone has to be the one. And I should stop sabotaging myself by keeping men far at bay by offering physical first. Cuz boys have a hard time shifting gears and seeing women for both physical and mental beings. For most men its one or the other and for them to see the mental part, they have to see that first. If they get the physical first, they never bother to see the rest. Unfortunately for me, I have this libido that really needs to be put in check. But c'mon mama has needs! *sigh*

Anyway, I want to have that Sunday kind of love. A love that last past saturday. I keep finding Frosted Shredded Wheat love. You know how frosted shredded wheat starts out all tasty, but then when you get down to it, is just as dry and tasteless as regular shredded wheat. I mean shredded wheat tastes like straw flavored dirt. And that frosting is just a tease to divert your attention from the dirt taste. So yeah I'm looking for some sugar pops or fruit loops or cinammon toast crunch type action.

Next steps:

Continue working on the thing that will change public education as we know it (more information as it is confirmed and publicized)
More open mics (but I'm pretty sure I could swing a feature. I got mad personality, son!)
finish the book proposal from hell. (agents be making you jump through hoops, yo)
finalize promotional pics and while i'm at it some pics of my beautiful sons
lock down some summer adventures
attend and have fun and learn at the black writers conference in Atlanta in June

I will not be just a tourist in the world of images, just watching images passing by which I cannot live in, make love to, possess as permanent sources of joy and ecstasy. ~Anais Nin

Underwater

2010-03-31T18:07:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I want to go back in time

bring him back through space

holding tight to his waist

in an intergalactic spooning position

brng back what was the best of us

scrape together the makings of us

into my backpack

and bring us back

all the pieces

and glue them back together

back from ashes and dust

back to life again

all 2 hours and 36 minutes of us

wouldn't that be a good trick

checking in with you

making sure everything's ok with you

thats a lie

making sure something disastrous hasn't happened

making sure a "i'd love for you to meet my girlfriend"

hadn't happened

though it may have

and i just haven't gotten back from space

with my hearing working properly

When you have been underwater for so long

breathing comes difficult

and I find myself looking

for a familiar island for me to breathe free

another lie

I just miss you

miss what we could have been

or what my mind had created us to be

they say curiosity killed the cat

but I am a dog person

and I don't think I'll ever learn

even this poem was written in your voice

What me and the boy chat about on the g-chat

2010-03-26T22:12:00.001-04:00

so my son has a gmail account. and now he likes to g chat with me. even when we're both at the table less than a foot away from each other. Here is what our chats are like:

damion.deejay: ok

me: how was school

8:51 PM damion.deejay: good,good but it was awsome!!!!!

me: why was it awesome

8:52 PM damion.deejay: because.... we had friut snacks!

8:53 PM me: ooh yay!

8:54 PM damion.deejay: well what are we gonna do tomarow mornig and the afterNoon

me: hmmm

8:55 PM well after we get some breakfast we are definitely cleaning!

and then baths and dressed for ma's

damion.deejay: noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! no cleanin up!

8:56 PM me: yes, ur room is waaaay overdue

damion.deejay: but but i need help! :'(

8:57 PM me: yes of course. its YOUR room

damion.deejay: but...i...need...help

8:58 PM me: yes i will help you

we'll do it together

damion.deejay: yes

me: we'll put on your michael jackson cd and clean up to music!

damion.deejay: ok.true true

8:59 PM me: ok

!

9:02 PM damion.deejay: well im out peace

9:03 PM me: peace out, son!

Big Girl Weight (or How to Shake Your Booty With Confidence)

2010-01-20T20:22:00.000-05:00

It is very interesting to me how I can be perfectly sane and forthright a person in my business relationships and be just as nervous and evasive in my personal ones. This morning I had a very straightforward discussion with a teacher, confronting him regarding his behavior which I felt was divisive and dishonest. I stated what the behavior was, how I felt about it, and its potential consequences. He stated his motivations, he apologized, new expectations were set. Fences mended, we move on.

Last nigt I attempted to have a similar conversation. But this time with a dude. Not just any dude. A dude I like. I llike him at about a 6 on a 10 point scale. Where a 1 is indifference and 10 is a turning in the players card and changing my number so the jump-offs can't find me type ish.

So a 6 is a solid like with potential for forward motion. Like 6 with a bullet. So dude, who I have named "Fred" is real cool. You know real nice and not too arrogant. And as Mary Poppins would say, "doesn't press his advantage." (Don't sleep, Mary Poppins gives great relationship advice). But some time has passed and real life has started up and consequently Fred's representative has clearly left the building. Last weekend there were a few of those "I'll call you back laters" which ended in no calls back and me grinding my teeth in anger. so I figure I'd let him know how I feel about that. I mean its a matter of basic manners. So I had the whole conversation generated in my head. Cuz basically I live about 75% of my life in my head.

It went something like this (WARNING: in my head I am a twenty something hair dresser living in Compton)

Me: hey Fred

Fred: hey boo whats up

Me: I wanted to let you know that alladat sayin you gon call and not callin needs to cease, yo.

I know you be all busy n shit but ain't no excuse for poor manners, boo boo.

Fred: yeah yeah you right you right. I'm sorry

Me: It's all good. you know I been likin you a long time and I just want to work this shit out now.

cuz i'm fitna make you my man, and you know, maybe possibly change my fb status. But that can't happen if you keep jackin stuff up. You may be my startin' line up, but I could still pull a nigga off the bench, yo.

Fred: Aaw baby don't do that. I know you are down for me and ain't too many broads out here a nigga can count on like that. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I'm not gon take you for granted, shawty.

me: That's right. I'm ride or die, boo. You already know, daddy.

But unfortunately the conversation didn't go like that. Unfortunately, I'm not a tough chick from Compton who does hair. I'm just a scared little browngirl from Bowie who is tryna pray her way out of an anxiety disorder.

So the conversation actually went like this:

Me: Hey Fred

Fred: What's up

Me: Whatcha doin'

Fred: Nothin, just workin'

me: um, I just wanted to talk to you about something that was bothering me. Um, I thought it was best to tell you so I wouldn't hold onto it and . . .(trailing off)

Fred: ok

me: Well I noticed that there were a few times this weekend that you said you would call or call back and you didin't.

Fred: yeah I didn't call back. I'm sorry

me: it's okay. I just wanted to get it off my chest because I get really anxious in situations like this. And when I get anxious, I lose weight and I just got my booty just the right size and I would hate to lose it. (right now I'm begging myself just to shut up)

Fred: um, wait what? Are you blaming me for the size of your booty?

me: No! I just mean that I get anxious and um, . . .nevermind

Fred: Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're right the weekend was really crazy and I got caught up, but im sorry about that.

And then we continued with a perfectly fine conversation. So yeah, not the Compton scenario, but the world didn't crumble after. Although I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm obsessed with my booty. Which is just fine, cuz I kinda am.

But have no fear. I was a big girl and my big girl weight is fully intact. The first picture below is one taken a year ago at my 36th birthday party. fabulous, yes. But check out the skeleton like thingie that was passing for a shoulder (that was full on anxiety attacks weekly, days in bed). The second picture was taken a year later, at cute boys birthday party. Same dress. Big girl weight in full effect. You can't see the booty, but check out them hips and thighs, boo. You already know...

Be Good To Yourself

2010-01-13T19:44:00.000-05:00

I had a good day today.

At work I was at my best. Modeled a lesson and cajoled a foundation. All in two hours.

Then I left and spent the day with a beautiful boy. May be my favorite post divorce. And knowing that I only wrote "may be" because sometimes in my heart of hearts behind my bravado and fabulous bod, I think all good things will eventually leave if they know I want it . . . I'm working on it.

And then stopping for Popeyes and at Jackies Liquors for chicken and a splurge on some nuvo. Eating dinner with the boys and the younger one asks, "what does that say" pointing at the picture in the dining room. I say, "it says Home Sweet Home". The older one says, "yes, home in DC" I ask him if living in laurel isn't sweet. He says, "actually its kind of sweeter." The little one says, "that's a funny word, "home". I said, "why is it a funny word." He says, "listen, hoMe...Hooooome...Hoooommmme." and then we all laugh because the way he is saying it is very funny indeed.

And now I am writing and in a second I will take a hot shower and watch American Idol wrapped in my favorite towel. over a year ago I wrote a note about all of my favorite things and vowing to spend my days spending more time doing things that I am good at and that I enjoy. I am glad that promise is one that I made good on.

Be good to yourself. You deserve it. It is necessary. It is your responsibility to you. Be present in the little moments. For it is those little moments that make up a lifetime and the ones you need to remember in the not so bright times...

Loads of Hope for the Holidays

2009-12-31T09:07:00.001-05:00

Loads of Hope for the Holidays

Posted using ShareThis

Some New Years Resolutions

2009-12-27T12:21:00.005-05:00

My year this year has been quite a ride. I like to look over my past blogs to see where I have been. I have accomplished a lot this year:

1. My divorce became final.
2. My divorce became final and I stopped being bullied by my ex-husband
3. I learned how to spend time with myself and actually enjoy it. If you get on your own nerves, how can you expose others to your poor company!
4. With my partner in business as well as in friendship, BrownGirlsWe is finally off the ground.
5. I have reignited my love for what I do. And have become even more ambitious in terms of my "day job".
6. I stopped being afraid to submit my work (writing).
7. Discovered I really have nothing to be afraid of and got some good feedback and advice from a great literary agent.
8. I met a few cute boys.
9. I stopped being afraid to let people in and I have met and befriended some really great people.
Word to Toni Minor and Kathryn Conner!
10. I have learned to keep my hormones and expectations in check. I sure hope my hiatus works out, word to Fred Sanford!

So for 2010 I have a few resolutions:

1. I will finish my book proposal.
2. I will submit some other work to other publications (even if its just to the City Paper and local market magazines)
3. I will become a more articulate self advocate at work.
4. I will begin my day in meditation and prayer for at least 3 minutes.
5. I will be unafraid of real relationships with men and unafraid to let the relationships go if they no longer want to be held.
6. I will love with my whole heart and be unafraid of getting hurt.
7. I will not rush or be impatient. (this will be really hard)
8. I will drink more water.
9. I will brush Arna the wonderdog more frequently so he doesn't get all tangled.
10. I will be the best me possible everyday.

So its a hefty list. We'll see how well I do.

Last Night a DJ Saved My Life or Super Lesbian to the Rescue!

2009-11-29T16:35:00.004-05:00

"Kenny Loggins is fucking dope!!!! Seriously"
That is a text I got at 1:42 Saturday afternoon from my best friend Brandi. She was driving the long 8 hours back from South Carolina clearly deep into song 3,124 of her 6000 songs on her ipod. Kenny Loggins? Really? Well to each his own.

I texted her back to see what time she would be home and to text me when she got in. I wanted to be sure she got home safe. She texts back asking if we were going to go out when she returned. Now let me just say that brandi shelton be playin with a chick's emotions. She knows good darn well she is not going to feel like going out after driving back from her folks house. But I haven't been out dancing in so long I jumped at the opportunity and crossed my fingers that she wouldn't back out when she got home. So I jumped on the internet to the hub of my entertainment information, facebook of course. I found out that DJ Jahsonic was going to be at Eighteenth Street Lounge. I first saw Jahsonic at Marvins on the Monday of Bassey Ikpi's birthday celebration Part Deux: The Eatonville and Marvins Edition. He played a mix of soul, R & B, classic hip-hop, and rare grooves. I woulda sweat my perm out if I had a perm! So I knew ESL was the place to be if he was going to be spinning there. And since brandi was currently pumpin the Kenny Loggins, I figured she would appreciate the variety.

I figured out what I was going to wear. I got these new jeans this weekend and with all the turkey and mac and cheese I ate this week, my ass looked PHENOMENAL in them. And I say that with the most humility I can muster.

So the night was so much fun! We got in and because of the crowd or management or both, Jahsonic was playing some housey, no lyric music. But we got in for half price (gotta appreciate that dredloc'd family hook-up), so we were going to have fun regardless. We head straight to the bar and decided it was going to be a Jack and Gingerale kind of night.

So much fun happens with my man Jack! So after a couple of cocktails we find a place to sit and take in the sights. Right at that same time Jahsonic starts playing the hell out of some music boy! Prince, Eurythmics, Run DMC. Everybody was jammin'. Brandi and I start dancing and singing. And because I must have "I date white boys" written on my forehead, random drunk ass white boy comes up and starts talking to me. As of this writing I have no idea what he was talking about. I know he said that he was Irish and thats why he was drunk. He kept saying how I was gorgeous, and that he didn't know how to dance. Yeah word to Plies. Just a P.S.A. public drunkenness is not cute.

Just as I had taken as much hugs and slurred words as I could from this dude, I take the opportunity to give Jahsonic the side eye to remind him about my song. He gave me a head nod and a hand shake and kept playin what he was playin. I should have known, the deejays I know hate it when you request songs. Side note: Jahsonic has the softest hands ever. What kind of moisturizer you use, son? I get back to my spot and I see brandi looking all pissed that I left her with the drunk dude. His posse is leaving so he tries his hand a little touchy feel feel before he goes. Um, no dude. not having it. Here's a hug for you and a hug from brandi, now get to steppin.

We keep dancing and decide to go to the other side of the room, just in case drunkey mcdrunkerson comes back. We get to our new spot and brandi tousels the hair of this dread as she walks by. Well, needless to say thats who she was dancing with for the rest of the evening. Me, I danced with the sweater vested, tie wearing Trini who was a good 3 or4 inches shorter than I was. Its not a problem. I'm pretty tall for a girl. So I'm used to being the same height or a smidge taller than dudes. But catch this. He uses the most fabulous short man pick up line ever on me. After we were dancing for a while he says in my ear, "I see you're not too tall to have a short conversation." Wow. No words. I don't know why I thought that was awesome, but it was. Like Brandi says, I'm a soft touch. We danced all night until the lights came on. I don't think thats happened since college.

Anyway night over, we race back to the garage where we were parked to retrieve the car. It was 2:56 and the garage closed at 3am. We get in the car and head back to Maryland. We get a couple of blocks and brandi says, OMG I think we're running out of gas. I look at her gas guage and it says she still has a quarter of a tank left. I said, "you can't be running out of gas. the guage says you still have some." Then I feel what she's talking about. The car isn't moving as she is pressing on the gas. It won't get beyond 2nd gear. We pull over to the side of the road. Ever the voice of reason, I say,"I think we can make it. Can't we make it to a gas station?" Okay not the best advice but to my defense I was 3 1/2 Jack n' Gingerales in.

Brandi decides not to risk it and instead moves into a parking spot on the side of K street. Okay here is the moment that all single girls dread. You're stuck on the side of the road, who do you call? I was for sure not going to call my Dad or my brother. Because even though I knew they would come, I sure as hell didn't want to get the lecture on the way home. So I called the only male person I know that would probably come and get us without to much of an attitude. And I say male, because I still am under the impression that there is certain things that are just male duties. Like taking out the trash, killing bugs, putting together furniture, and tonight: rescuing damsels in distress. So I call him, and: no answer. I text him: no answer. Brandi closes my phone in disgust and makes her phone call. Not a dude, but the next best thing. Someone you think of when you think of someone handy, take charge, and down for whatever at after 3am: a lesbian.

Yes, she has a name. No I'm not going to tell you. And she is much more than a lesbian she is brandi's home girl and clearly reliable. So after a phone call to wake her up and to let her know our situation, she is on the way to pick us up. And she arrives shortly later like an angel in a knit cap, blastin' Tupac's Thug Life in the car. She drives us home and kicks our drunk asses out when we get to the house. Yaaay, rescued! The next morning my would be knight in shining armour called to make sure we were ok. He had missed our call and slept through the text. I was glad he called to check on us. But happier that we were able to handle it ourselves.

The moral of the story: ladies, you don't need a man to bail you out of situations, all you need is a handy lesbian with access to a car.

Or Triple A, whatevs

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner! Thanksgiving 2009

2009-11-27T14:37:00.001-05:00

I'm writing this knowing this will only be funny to my sister, brother, and other family members who were actually there to witness the hilarity.

So I roll up to the house sans children. My first Thanksgiving without the children. But one thing about family, they have a way of wrapping you up in their love and make everything alright.Anyways, I noticed my grandfather and his wife's car in the driveway. Great! I know there will be wine. His wife brought her son with her. Both puerto rican, they go back in forth in spanish. And she gives my grandfather the side eye every time he pours a glass of wine. She told him, "I can see the wine in your cheeks!" What the hell does that mean?

My mother has a very good relationship with my grandfather. He's not her real father, but the only one she knows. They have an awful abusive history, but as I said families have a way of letting time make everything all right. Its like they share this terrible secret, and they have to be nice to each other because you have to trust the keeper of the secrets. Bleh, this isn't funny at all.

On to the next. Okay, time to eat! My sister and her kids arrived with her parts of the meal. There was a flurry of work and movement before it was time to eat. I arrived with my fork and my apetite. And I of course sat on my ass the entire time. My neice and I conspired to get the turkey legs. My brother and my other neice always "call" the legs. So I let it be known that no more will the fair skinned Grays monopolize the turkey legs. I always try to make everything racial. Its funny because my neice is biracial (black and white), my mother is biracial (black and mexican) and my brother mysteriously light skinned for no particular reason. And of course my grandmother is puerto rican. So its the friggin U.N. up in this piece, but like my brother says, "we're all niggas". heeheee! He actually said that.

So the topic of conversation was about my sister who had invited her old high school friend over for dessert. Okay, a little back story. My sister dated this dude in high school, they reconnected through facebook. He started calling her regularly and came to visit. Holly realized that he wasn't as stable as she had hoped. He is pre-occupied with race (told holly about his black nanny who he was trying to get in touch with). He is socially awkward and often scripts future conversation. And we're pretty sure he's already planning his and holly's wedding.

Eventually, Holly left to go pick up said wack job. While she was gone Andre and I (step grandmother's son) kept talking about what was going to happen when he got here. We talked about scenarios where he accidentally might use the n word and then we would have to give him the beat down and toss him out. then Derek realized that we couldn't say the word either, cuz thats just awkward in front of white folks. And to let you know Derek is addicted to the N word. This is fitna be hilarious.

So Holly and strange boy arrived. I say strange boy really loosely cuz dude is 40 years old and looks damn near 50. Let me paint the picture. Picture a partially balding Dr. Evil in a 3 piece suit. Derek and I kept doing the scene where Dr. Evil tries to do the macarena (duka duka duka duka oh oh oh). He says as soon as he arrives, "Wow, here I am in the Gray household after 20 some years!" Like he's been waiting to be back in all 20 years. He says the same phrase like 30 times. "here I am back in the gray household after 20 years!" He sits himself next to Hannah and begins to tell her how she should consider going to college in Georgia because he lives there and he could be her benefactor of sorts.

Hello I believe I"m in the twilight zone!

Then he says, "you know I knew all of Martin Luther Kings speech by heart! But Holly didn't want me because of that. She wanted me because I was so cute and charming." At that point I fall out on the floor. Then he also proceeds to tell my niece that she is so exotic looking. And then to complete the awkward white guilt statements, he says, "my family and I have always color blind, saying a racial slur would be the only thing we would get in trouble for." At that point my brother comes over and whispers, "nigga, nigga, nigga" in my ear.

So here we are in the Obama era. Several races represented together in one family. And one awkward white boy, who makes the topic of conversation how different we all are and how he's totally okay with that. And it gives me the feeling that if someone would ever accuse him of racism, he would point to the fact that he was in a negro home for thanksgiving and how he was completely accepted as one of the family.
Man, I love Thanksgiving.

Oh and just a few other tidbits:
I spiked the holiday punch with vodka
Grandmother's son used to have a gold tooth which mysteriously disappeared, and my mom wondered if "he mighta sol' it"
Derek and I did the two step, poorly
My aunt pat did nothing funny whatsoever (darn) and came with a new set of teeth (fabulous)

A Rose By Any Other Name

2009-11-22T23:16:00.008-05:00

I dropped my married name off of my facebook last week. A small thing. But kind of a big deal for me. It was precipitated by me spending a good part of my morning with my former in-laws as we were having them take the yearly grandchild christmas photos. My mother-in-law does this every year. I appreciate her because most of the formal pictures of my kids, she has arranged. But it was awkward because just prior we had some back in forth that was kind of negative. The photo session went fine though. A little awkward but fine.

After the photo session I went to my parent's house which is the norm on Sundays. I felt so at home there. I laugh so much there. When I am there I am indeed a Gray. As I was leaving, I felt so overwhelmed by the joy that my family has when we're together juxtaposed to how awkward I had felt earlier, I decided then to change my name back. It was clear that I was no longer a Codrington.

One of the reasons I had kept my married name was the children. I didn't want them to think I was divorcing them along with their dad. Also, I felt self conscious being by myself with these two boys, I was afraid of the judgement I might face if people thought that I had children out of wedlock. Like I wanted to wear a shirt that said "I am divorced, not a single mom". But the reality of it is, I am a single mom. I am divorced and I am raising these boys alone. Part of me wants to change the boys last name too. But I know that is just selfish Michele talking. They are as much a part of him as they are of me.

So this is me. Celebrating little victories.

So hmm, what else is going on. Not much. I have two half written stories to finish. I haven't been in a very quiet space to finish them. Perhaps during the Thanksgiving break. I am enjoying where I'm at right now. Got in a comfortable groove of working, playing, caring, and creating. Try to do a bit of each thing every day.

I have been speaking alot to Fred. And by speaking I mean facebook chatting. Since he is far that is probably the only kind of communication we will do. At least for now. I don't know about him. But I am interested in finding out about who he is. He hides alot of himself. Its just a feeling that I get. I dunno. Maybe thats how people are meant to behave in the beginning. I kind of have gone the opposite route. I put myself so far out there, just so I can be proud of myself that I'm not self conscious about it. Its a way for me to win a bit. Because not so long ago I was embarrassed by every move I made.

Sometimes I get envious of folks who get to go off to different places. My responsibilities keep me pretty much stationary. But the one thing that this little life of mine has taught me, is that every day that I get up and move and grow is an adventure. I am responsible for two other lives besides my own. I almost was evicted, I was unemployed, I was employed again, I was married, I was divorced, I've moved on my own, I started playing the violin again, I write, I cook, I create. And on really wild days I laugh and I laugh and I date and I kiss. I drink mimosas, I play scrabble, I grab boys' natty hair, I have sex, and I bought a bed. This coming weekend I'm going to get new needles and yarn to start a new knitting project, and I've ordered some art supplies because I've decided I'm going to try my hand at collage and painting.

Quite an adventure I am on. Yes, I am happy with this life I am building for myself. And I'm excited to see what tomorrow will bring.

Michele Lee Gray: Mommy, writer, educator, sister, lover, friend, somebody's child, adventurer . . .

The Change of Waiters (my afternoon at busboys)

2009-10-03T17:44:00.003-04:00

The change of the waiters. One comes and delivers the check and says that if you want anything else there will be another waiter. Oh first waiter that I didn’t get a chance to know, have a great rest of your day. You got plans this evening? Nah, me neither. Oh hello new waiter I’m sure you will be much better than first waiter. Long day ahead of you? Yeah the grind can be hard. Wait new waiter, I actually do have an order. Hello, new waiter? Okay new waiter sucks ass. Where is old waiter?

Checking internet, checking . . .okay internet still doesn’t work…so I actually may get done some writing…yeah I have nothing to write about. Okay new waiter you could at least look in this direction. I’m sure you think I don’t want anything. Since I just finished scarfing down a turkey burger that old waiter brought. I am sure my thoughts of racism are only springing up because I watched the KKK documentary on the History Channel before I left home. I mean you can’t be racist and work for busboys. I’m sure it’s like a question on their application or something. Old waiter never brought back my change. Okay old waiter, I wasn’t actually going to give you a tip since it was the host that took my order. I want to at least have the option of not tipping you. Dammit…

Okay I’m gonna get all negro on their asses. Maybe if either new waiter or old waiter could come take my drink order I would be more mellow. So here goes. Excuse me new waiter? Do you wait in this area? Can I have a vodka gimlet? And tell old waiter, he hasn’t brought my change back. Thanks.

Old waiter brings me 5 bucks. Clearly he doesn’t know what I ordered. So the moral question? Should I scoop up the extra 2 bucks that he left or be honest and just scoop up my 3 bucks. I really don’t want him to think I am tipping him for not taking my order, not bringing my food, nor not bringing back my change. So I think the moral decision would be to scoop up all 5 bucks and give it to new waiter. Although new waiter doesn’t seem very um, waity. I may have to chalk the extra two bucks up to the vodka fund.

Fred Sanford is very mysterious. Not real Fred Sanford mind you. Fred Sanford my poke buddy on facebook. Who are you Sanford? Why do you look like fred Sanford yet I think you’re the cutest thing ever? What do you do exactly? And why are you always at meetings? What are you meeting about? Jeez. I am at busboys come tell me all the answers please. I am sitting on the couch next near the front. Look forward to talking to you.

E speezy, why are you so cranky? Why do you get mad and stop talking to negresses then deny that you’re mad? You should try taking interest in somebody for real. Maybe not me, but somebody. Take a chance and stop being so weird and moody and complicated. Just relax and go with the flow and make some effort. Maybe someone will make some effort with you as well. Let me text him and see what happens. “hey you. How is ur day going?”

Nigerian, why do you continue to text me at the most random times? I am glad I cross your mind sometimes. Do you want to just get married and work out the details later. I’m sure we would have as good of a chance as folks who date for years then get hitched. Your friend has been flirting with me. I may do it to him. It will completely be accidental you understand. But by then I know it would be completely out of the question with us. So you might want to get to getting over yourself and give me a call to profess your undying love to me. I’m at the busyboys, reception is not to good here, so you might want to just come by. I’m on a couch near the door. Look forward to talking with you.

Texted Laura to come have dinner with me at Eatonville. I owe her 40 bucks. I hope she doesn’t ask for it because I’m about 40 bucks short.

OOOH Dead Giveaway by Shalamar is on! Woo hoo. It’s just a dead giveaway. Dead. Giveaway.
Uh oh. Speezy just texted. Let’s see . . .”Hey there. Day is great.” Eh. Okay he is safe for now. For now . . he didn’t say anything after that, so he is still on the verge of woman scorned revenge.

Confirmed dinner with Laura. It will be a nice night. It would be great if my main homie could come join us. I think she and Laura would hit it off. She has plans though with Mrs. Lonely Heart. I actually support those plans Mrs. could really use some bright spots right about now.
OH wait I take it all back. Speezy just texted that he is with his daughter. Okay the hit is off. I want to kiss his face.

Busboys should really stop advertising free internet. This thing hasn’t worked the last two times I was here. Let me pull a host aside to tell them to push the reset button on the internet thingie. Okay one more drink and that’s it. I must have enough for dinner later. The check I deposited hasn’t cleared yet. Probably not until Monday. I should start asking for support in cash. These checks are a drag.

Omg. I just saw a girl come in with an orange cross colours-esque overall suit. Overalls? I mean really… What are you, an out of work Electric Company actor?

Girl that looks like Ramona walked in. I miss her so much. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Okay, let me stop frontin like I don’t need to be on the internet. Off to find a connection . . . (think about it, think about it, . . .)

For All of Us

2009-09-19T23:10:00.004-04:00

I finally saw Whitney's interview with Oprah. Saw it over my sister's house. It was a wonderful interview and I enjoyed her performance on part 2. It made me think how many strong women I have in my life. It made me think about how strong I am. Whitney goes through what many women go through. When she sang the song with the line "I am not built to break" I thought, "of course you're not. Neither am I". Then I looked at my sister and thought, "Neither is she." I thought of my mother, I thought of my best friend. None of us are built to break. We as women need to remember that. When we are the middle of it, whatever the "it" is, in that moment, we need to remember that.

I thought if someone had interviewed me after I asked my husband to leave, and someone were to ask me about how I was strong enough to do that, I think my answers would have been so similar to Whitney's. It made me think about how similar we all are, and how its a shame that some of us have to go through so much to find out how extraordinary we are.

Last night I was on the computer reading @fattybella's tweets. Something tells me things are not all good in the hood with her and Jay Electronica. She is hurt, but she will be fine. We want to love so much and so much we want to be loved in return. We sometimes forget ourselves in the love story we create in our heads.

I want Whitney to learn to love again. To be fearless when she finds someone that makes her heart flutter as much as Bobby did. That is the hardest part I think. Talking to co-workers about the interview most of the sentiments centered around how "regular" Whitney is. I think many women identified with her. But Whitney is not regular. Whitney is extraordinary. Her mistake was trying to dim her shine. So many of us are extraordinary and even though so many women go through the same thing it does not make it any less extraordinary. The strength it takes to muster to save ourselves when everything in us tells us to sacrifice ourselves for those we love is extraordinary.

I've been asked how I could just up and end a 13 year relationship with the father of my children, my husband. I don't really understand the question, because in my mind it was him or me and I chose me. simple. simple yet extraordinary.

So here's to all of us. All of us extraordinary women who are not built to break. Here are a few of our stories

I fell in love with the funniest, most talented, beautiful man
Because he hid his faults, I never really got to know him.
I had two children for him.
He tried to dim my shine because he didn't fully understand the magnitude of his own.
I left him before I was broken. And I never looked back.
I'm so looking forward to loving again...greater is he that is in me
Michele Lee Gray Codrington was not built to be broken

My sister fell in love with a man
she married him and divorced him
He also kept secrets.
She lost her job and almost lost her home
She rebuilt her life and is now dating more than I am
Holly Gray-Brown is not built to be broken

My mother is the daughter of a heroin addict.
She never knew her father
She had to raise her brothers and sisters on her own when she was just a child herself.
She married her highschool sweetheart and had 3 beautiful and flawed children
Brenda Mae Gray was not built to be broken

My grandmother was pregnant at 15.
Abandoned by the baby's father when she was not yet showing.
She became addicted to heroin and an alcoholic
She fell in love with her savior.
6 of her 7 children were addicts.
But she survived and so did they
Geneva "Gloria" Jones Hampton was not built to be broken

Moody Boy Fan Club

2009-09-11T12:02:00.005-04:00

It just started out by getting random texts. Once I got a phone call just when I started my new job. When I saw his name pop up on the caller id it really surprised me. What does he want? Then it was the year anniversary of his mother's death, and I remembered. I wanted to let him know that I remembered. I do think of him sometimes, but on the whole I've pushed him to the left side of my brain. But still sometimes I think of him. I wonder what he's doing, how he's doing, wondering if he sometimes thinks of me, wondering if those thoughts are pleasant.

I used to think we would make a good team, him and I. Part of me still does. But a couple of years ago, I believed it completely. It was one of those "with every fiber of my being" beliefs. I was so flumoxed when he didn't see it. It was like everything I knew was turned on its ear. Like I was dropped into a labyrinth and hadn't dropped any bread crumbs to lead me out. It confused me to the point that I stopped feeling comfortable with myself, especially around him.

It's hard to be in a situation where you know something is true, but no one else believes it. So my main mistake is trying to convince him of it. That is the worse position in which anyone can put themselves.

They say women are attracted to men like their father. My father is or was the grumpiest, moodiest man on the planet. and that is who I find myself most attracted to. In one word, "curmudgeons". A friend of mine can be really moody. He sometimes says slick shit out of his mouth to me or to other folk. I can tell when its mood related and when I see it, all I want to do is mush his face between my hands and give him a big kiss right below his eye socket. (thats one of my favorite kissing spots. There, and in the area right below the ear). I wanna be able to give him a big nuzzle and let him know that everything will be okay and to let him know that I'm not afraid of his grumpiness. I mainly just find it amusing. (as I said, next to my dad, these dudes are cream puffs).

But one thing the Nigerian has taught me is that sometimes a nuzzle and a sloppy kiss doesn't always cure what ails you. Sometimes its a "here I am ready to love you, and you're pushing me away, and that is in no way cool. I understand, but you need to get it together, if it is me that you want. And maybe I am not what you want. And thats okay too. Maybe you can get it together in order to ready for what I have to offer. Maybe you never will be ready. And it is no one's fault and no one's deficiency." I realized that I am in need of some of that unconditional love shit that I am always so willing to give out. So yes, that's what I need. And I realize (albeit late) that love is easy, its relationships that are hard, and no one should have to convince someone they are worthy to be loved. That's the part that should be easy.

So I was finally able to let go of the Nigerian. I realized that I was taking on too much responsibility for that not working. My fearlessness might've been a bit much, but his cowardice was just a plain drag. So now that we've been communicating again, I'm reminded about how much we have in common. I'm reminded about how nice it was to talk to him. And in my more hopeful moments, I think , "wouldn't it be something if now we both got our stuff together at the same time." He being him and me being me, and if by chance we find each other . . .

Slow Roll

2009-08-30T01:23:00.006-04:00

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I promise! Any similiarities of characters to actual people are completely coincidental. I swear . . .

She looked in the mirror. Casually pushed her hair aside and begun washing her face. Smiling to herself as she used the scrubber on her pronounced cheek bones. Funny how the simplest things she found joy in now. It had been several months since the separation and she had been on one disaster of a date after another. Then she met him. He came just at the right time. Just like a Prince Charming come to save her from the big bad wolf. At least that’s how he made her feel. She worked so hard all the time. Taking care of everything; her boys, her house, her car everything. He came and she was finally able to not worry about anything. Even if it was just for an afternoon. He took care of her. He fed her, kept her company, and gave her body what it needed. And she didn’t have to worry about a thing.

She rinsed off her face and patted it dry. Put on a little moisturizer and some lip gloss. Pleased with the result, she finished getting on her pajamas. She was going to see him tonight. It had been almost a month since she last saw him. He had been very busy with work and she knew he was kind of moody. She told herself to be patient, but it was really hard. They communicated almost every day, instant messenger mostly. It was so refreshing having conversation with someone she didn’t have to speak down to. She was a very smart girl. Like seriously. IQ 3 points from genius. It helped her only at work and as she played along with jeopardy on tv. No real advantage being so smart. And she was sure the 3 points away from genius kept her from understanding the point of Sudoku. But the thing it was most useful for was keeping people away. Most people found her strange. Humor above most people’s heads made would be associates look at her sideways. Yes, she was a very strange girl. And while that was alienating, she found comfort in her oddness. But he, he kept up with her smartass comment for smartass comment. He even got her Ralph Kramden reference. She was so impressed that her boom pow wasn’t met with a blank stare. The only person who got her as much him was the Nigerian. And it was a shame how that turned out. When he said, “to the moon”, she almost licked the computer screen. So delicious this boy was . . .

She sat down and turned on the TV. Watching video after video, waiting for him to call. He said he was going to call after he finished at the club. It was right around the time he was to call. She began to be nervous. She wrung and wrung her hands around each other. She looked down. Her hands were red. She was so glad she stopped taking her meds. As anxious as she was feeling now, she was grateful that she felt anything. On the medication, she hadn’t felt a thing. The apathy almost crushed her. She understood why she needed to start the medication in the first place. It was all the Nigerian’s fault. Why couldn’t he fall in love with her like he was supposed to? After the scene she had made at the club, she thought he would never speak to her again. Some people were so stupid. When he called her again and wanted to see her, she knew how it would end. He just needed her to end it. And she did. She did just what he asked her to do. She looked down at the phone again. It was 2:40 am. Her head started to pound. She turned the channel to another video channel. It was Maxwell. It reminded her of the time he came over. Maxwell song after Maxwell song. Like he had called the station and planned it. When he was on top of her, holding her face to close to his, it was like he was asking her to see inside him. His hair much longer than hers. Strong locs. Falling around her face. She didn’t know where hers ended and his began. They fell into her mouth and eyes like she was swimming inside him. It made her want to crawl inside of him and hibernate herself through the rough patches. And she was going through a very rough patch.

“Slow Roll” by Kymani Marley came on VH1 soul. Yes, this had to be a sign. Speaking from the TV to her.

She looked again at her watch. 3:15 am. She was losing time. That hadn’t happened to her in a while. Not since . . . Well at any rate, time was flying faster than her brain could keep up with. She reached for the phone. She should call. What if he was lying in a ditch hurt somewhere? She resisted the urge to dial his number. She thought it might seem crazy to call him. He said he was going to call, so she was sure he would. She got up and mixed a cocktail. A vodka with a splash of lime juice. That should calm her. After she took a sip from her drink, she opened the silverware drawer and retrieved her paring knife. She took the sharp end and pressed it against her thigh. She pressed and pivoted the blade to the side. It pierced the skin and blood came slowly out. It provided such a sweet release to her. The sight of the blood and the feeling that with the blood, her anxiety was being forced from her body. She stared at the mess she was making. It was spilling onto the kitchen floor. She didn’t want him to think she kept an untidy home. She cleaned her wound and applied a bandage or two on the slice on her thigh. She grabbed a sponge and cleaned the spot on the counter and floor.

3:30 am. Her phone rang. It was him. He said it was taking a long time for him to get his money. He said he would try to catch up with her tomorrow. She told him that he was always on her mind and that she couldn’t wait to see him. It didn’t matter what time it was. He told her that it was okay, that she would see him tomorrow, maybe. She said “okay” and hung up the phone. “maybe” that word stuck in her head. “Maybe” see her tomorrow. “How dare he?” she thought. She felt her ears getting hot and her head began to pound louder than ever. She began to pace the room, wondering what she should do. She only could hear buzzing. The buzzing . . . just like when she went to see the Nigerian for the last time.

She slipped on her slippers and grabbed her keys. She opened the door and stepped into the air heavy, wet and hot. She opened the door to the car and got in. Turn the ignition and backed out of her space. On the way down the parkway, she began to cry. She remembered when she went on a similar mission just a few months before. It was winter then. He called and asked for her to come to see her. It had to end, he had said. He tried to be so nice and accommodating. It made her sick how he was trying to talk to her as if she was stupid. How he tried to talk to her in that calm tone that people use when they are trying to reason with a crazy person. It was so infuriating. He just wouldn’t understand. But she would make him understand. And he finally did understand. The last look on his face was that of complete recognition. But of course by then it was too late. She would make this one understand as well.

As her car raced down the highway, she peeled the Band-Aids off her leg. She pushed her fingertips into the soft spot she had made earlier. The pain felt so good. It made her feel so alive. The pain and the wind pouring into her car through the open window made her feel like she was more awake than she had ever been before. She double parked her car outside the club. She still heard music pouring out the windows as the last of the partiers were spilling out of the doors. When she got out of the car, she could feel the stares. Someone grabbed her by the arm and said something about her bleeding and if she was okay. She could barely hear above the pounding in her head. She shoved him off of her and headed toward the stairs. She began screaming his name. If she saw his face, she would be okay. She just needed to see his face. Finally, she saw him at the top of the stairs. He had a look of disbelief on his face. She wanted to wipe that look off of his face. This was his entire fault. She thought if had just kept his promise, if he had just kept his word . . .

Everything began to go gray. She was losing her sight, just as she had lost time and her hearing with this anger that was replacing all of her senses. She felt weak. She felt her legs as they began to shake. They were completely wet. She didn’t understand why they felt so wet. She tried to climb more steps, but by then her legs were useless. She closed her eyes. He really didn’t know what he was doing being so nice to her like that. He really had no idea what he had started. But she was sure he would understand now . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gry0rEv9lNM

Casual, Not Clumsy

2009-08-25T20:44:00.004-04:00

134 lbs. (getting a little nervous that project fab thighs by August has gotten a bit out of control)
Jack and gingerale (new drink very tasty)

So as a newly single woman I have been hitting the dating scene. I have a few observations about human behavior that is just fascinating to me.

I remember when I was young I told myself I would never have sex before I got married. Then when I got into college I told myself I would never have sex unless that person was my boyfriend and I loved him. Later into my college years, I decided that I would only have sex in a relationship. Then my next to the last year of college I met my husband and that was that. No sex except for husband.

Now that I am divorced with two children, I've been trying to decide when is it the appropriate time to have sex. But the reality is when you have sex with someone you're giving them a piece of yourself and you can only hope they treat it well.

Let me explain.

The term "casual sex" comes up often. Most define it as sex without strings. Sex outside of a relationship. Most believe that women can't handle casual sex. But I believe its the opposite. Men often are so egotistical in their thinking. Their ego pushes them to push their sex partners away so the woman won't "catch feelings". Then the woman feels awful and used when the said pushing away starts happening. Then the men take the woman's anger as confirmation that women can't handle "casual sex". However, if one understands that when you have sex with someone you give a piece of yourself away, then the issue becomes clear.

Sex is intimate. Your partner sees you at your most vulnerable. You are naked literally and figuratively. Then it is over and they walk out with a little piece of you vicariously perched on their shoulder. The hope then becomes that they don't drop, destroy, or otherwise disrespect the little piece of you that they have. But you know men, they are maaad clumsy.

And the little thing you gave them is often mishandled, disrespected, and malnourished. Leaving you feeling so sad and embarrased and forlorn. But there are some men who understand, respect and take care. So as not to be clumsly and mishandle what they have been given.

I find people are so afraid of feelings. Afraid people will feel for them, afraid they will feel for others. It's really quite simple. You shouldn't be afraid of feelings. They are what make you human. And the honesty is the antidote to the fear of unrequited love. If you don't have the same feelings as the other person, tell them so. Be their friend. Be human. Remember you have something of theirs that is perched precariously on your shoulder. Don't be clumsy. Because however casual the sex is you are still giving a piece of yourself to another person and that should be respected. And I expect more from someone I have given that to. And though it is often these expectations that get me into trouble, it moves me to be discerning about who I choose to give a piece of myself to. So casual sex can only happen if I know what the other person is capable of. You have to trust them. However non-committal, sex means something and it shouldn't be treated clumsily.

My summer vacation

2009-08-10T21:08:00.004-04:00

134.6 lbs
Made a wonderful cream of shrimp soup
various cocktails but gimlets mainly

So my summer vacation. I'm actually already back to work. It's going pretty well so far. I think its always a challenge for me to deal with people I don't like as people. But I am working on just focusing on my work and striving to make some of my dreams come true. I've decided that I want to work for myself. I want to write, I want to train teachers, I want my days to be different every day. My job is a good one. It accesses my strengths. But I do want to write more. My divorce is final. I'm raising my boys. I want to start making choices that will improve my life in the long term. My abundant life is waiting for me, and I think I'm brave enough to go for it. (man that paragraph was a mangled mess, but whatevs)

My boys have been with their dad and the live in girlfriend in Florida. He finally had to admit to me that he had one, since the boys were going down there. You would think he would be less mean now that he didn't have to have secrets or couldn't get mad at me because I continue to date. But for whatever reason he still has mad attitude all the time. But I really am done caring what his deal is. Be happy dude. I am...

Since I've been on my own for the past week or so, I did some things that I don't get to do as often. I have been spending time with my friends. Just happy hour and eating and book store visits. It makes me realize we're all going through something. Friends should be there for each other to share and support each other. I used to feel like an alien. I used to feel I was this strange girl that no one could possibly understand. Through my interactions with others, I realize we all are so strange. But if we are all strange, it kinda doesn't make us strange at all.

Brandi told me the most hilarious stories about the most dysfunctional crazy people. I laughed so hard. Not at them. Not that I think that I'm better than they are. But people, including me, are so crazy and funny and fallible and beautiful. I saw F that night. Dancing and having a good time. It made me happy. I saw Brandi's Maggie Moo that same night. Hung out with him and his friend. I met a boy that night. Went on a date with him the day after. He was a disaster. But I got a good meal. He only tried to call a few times after that, then got the message.

There is this dude. An acquaintance of mine. I've seen him out alot. We flirt a little. I told him, or rather brandi told him and I confirmed, that I needed a summer fling. He came over the other day. I won't give all the details, because I've been working on my delivery so I can have a great story for brandi when she comes home. It's going to be the most hilarious, sexy, greatest story ever. But he came over. Cooked me food, brought me drinks. We ate and drank and laughed. He seemed to be more himself than I had ever experienced in person before. We watched tv and were close. AND he bought me Chipotle. Did I mention that is my favorite food ever? It was a really good day. He was so nice to me and I appreciated his company. He took my picture while I was laying on the couch. I can't stop looking at the picture. I looked so relaxed. I think he may be a good friend to have. Helpin' a negress in her time of need and what not...

He made me want to buy a bed...I don't have one by the way. If anyone knows where I could get a bed for cheap, I'm in the market . . .

My summer vacation consisted of birthday parties, cougar pouncin', summer flingin' and laughin' and joblessness and working and anxiety attackin' and love in the afternoon . So even though there was no beach, shopping or traveling, I think it was a pretty good time . . .

What a difference a year makes

2009-07-20T20:22:00.005-04:00

Last year away on business, I fell out of the shower and bruised my ribs and spleen.

This year away on business, I burned my hand on the iron.

Last year I ignored my pain for a while and ended up in the emergency room, and had a bruise that eventually faded, at least on the outside.

This year I ran water over my hand and it barely left a mark.

I have learned that I know how to take care of myself.

While I was away last year, my dad's kidney functions got low enough for him to start dialysis. His kidney failure was causing heart failure which landed him in the hospital. Last year I was terrified of losing him.

While I was away last year FL lost his mother. She had been sick a long time, then she died. I was sad for him. I worried about him. I was afraid for myself.

This year my dad goes to dialysis 3 times a week. After a rough start, he has responded well to it. He looks better, has gained much of his weight back. This year I'm still afraid of losing him. This year I treasure the moments I have with him. Even when he's cranky.

This year FL has spent without his mother. This year he has tried to be the one to handle the problems with his siblings. This year I haven't spoken to him much. So this year I'm not sure where he's at.

I've learned alot in a year. Things have moved and grown and stayed the same. I feel very different. Less vulnerable, more in control. I'm more satisfied with me and less desire to control and be satisfied by others.

I am much happier being who I am and letting others be who they are and leaving the rest to inclination.

Sojourner, Sojourner

2009-07-20T16:46:00.004-04:00

4:19 am: Driving to drop the boys off. They're dozing in the back. Shoeless, wearing the same clothes they slept in. I wanted to disturb their sleep as little as possible. Not sure why he is making me do this. He's so frustrating sometimes. I wonder if he'll even be there

4:50 am: The lights are on in the house. I"m carrying the littlest boy up to the front door. It opens and my mother-in-law ushers them inside. "Just lay donw there. We're going somewhere." I bring their suitcases into the house and set them down in the foyer. "We have for them here," she says. "They don't need that."

"They'll be here for a whole week, you don't need anything?"

" No, we have for them here."

"Not even their shoes?"

She looked down at their bare feet.

"Yes, their shoes."

"They're in the bag." I bend over to unzip the bag. I pull the shoes out.

"So you don't want the bags at all?"

"No."

"I sure wish someone had told me that before I packed them," I mumble.

4:56 am: I walk back to the car. She runs out to ask about Justice's medication. I reach into the glove box, pull out a bottle. Shake it to be sure its not empty. Finding some left, I hand it to her.

"And this is for . . .?"

"For his wheezing, sneezing, and itching. Just give it to him daily especially if he will be outside a lot."

I roll up the window and drive onto the airport.

5:57 am: Hop in the airport shuttle from Economy Parking to the terminal. My early flight kept anyone from dropping me off. And I'm here extra early becasue I had to drop the kids off before 5 am. He wasn't even there to meet them. I wonder if he'll see them at all this week.

6:43 am: Through security. Eating a $7.50 panini. Should've stopped at McDonalds. For $7.50 it should talk and dance and tell my fortune.

7:46 am: other folks from my school start to arrive. Chatting with the H.O.S. (Head of School). She is really laid back and open. I'm feeling better about this job. Looking forward to getting into Charleston and relax a bit. H.O.S says she thinks there is a pool there. . .

2:36 pm: H.O.S and I relaxing by the pool in Charleston. The rooms aren't ready yet. We got lunch. $10 bucks with tax. The south is really good on a sister's budget. When my room's ready, gonna lay in the bed and watch TV. We're meeting later for dinner. I wonder where I could get some flip flops . . .

Climbing Out of the Bell Jar

2009-07-06T12:12:00.004-04:00

133.8 lbs
fab chinolatino wontons (made from scratch! yay me)
grown up lemonade
completely med free

So I've gained and kept about 10 pounds. I'm very happy. My clothes fit better and I'm so pleased with how my body is shaping up. It leads me to wonder, why now? My hypothesis for my weight Loss has always been my anxiety and my elevated heart rate (SVT check it out on wikipedia). So I thought that being on meds would help me gain weight, it didn't. I've been off for about a month and after a couple of bad panic attacks, I've been symptom free. I'm learning how my body feels when I'm getting so amped up. I think the absence of the weird, anxious behaviors that the meds got rid of, made me vigilant and more aware that they exist. So I'm grateful for that.

So off meds and life has been as stressful as ever. Being out of work for a month has caught up with me. I'm a month behind in rent. I just started getting paid from my new job. I have to make a payment plan with my landlord to get up to date. So stress and no meds yet I've never looked healthier, odd.

I think I'm learning to take things as the come and discovering that bad things, inconvenient things, scary things . . .

I wrote the above while I was waiting for a training to start at work. I had to leave to go to housing court and the following writing was done describing what happened on my way back.

I kept running the numbers and dates in my head and wondering if my landlord would accept my terms for payment in getting caught back up. Over and over the numbers and dates: $1330 behind, $1630, $1630, then $930. July 15th, July 30th, August 15th. As I kept repeating the numbers and anticipating how the conversation will go, my heart started to beat fast. I knew what was coming. My eyes started to go dark. I inch my car to the shoulder of the road and pressed down on the break. by the time my foot had pressed completely down, everything was dark. It lasted a couple of seconds I could see again. I kept driving and went on to work.

This past weekend I went to my parents house and weighed myself. 131.7

I refuse to go back on medication. I need to learn how to control these feelings in the moment or at least wait to perseverate on the bullshit until I park my car. This is going to be a process . . .

Puberty, Bum Kidneys, and The Man in the Mirror

2009-06-28T11:29:00.002-04:00

How can a person just be alive and then in the next second be gone? This is what bothers me so much about death. Here one day gone the next. So horribly strange and permanent. Michael Jackson died Friday. I did not cry. I was not saddened by his death. I know Michael Jackson's body of work. I did not know him. I was shaken, though. I was shaken because he was such a big part of my brother's life. 6 months ago his real best friend died, now his imaginary best friend died.

When my brother was 6 he was diagnosed with Nephrotic Syndrome. Its a kidney disease that causes kidneys not to filter proteins properly. He was hospitalized for it when he was first diagnosed and continues to go through the cycle of being in remission (no visible symptoms of the illness) and out of remission (body fully compromised by the illness). My brother is a huge Michael Jackson fan. He is more than a fan. During his illness, Michael Jackson's music was his escape. After my brother got out of the hospital, he performed for his elementary school talent show. He sang "Man in the Mirror". While he was singing, my whole family was in tears. This is a kid who was just in the hospital and now was brave enough to sing in front of everyone. Despite his changed appearance his illness caused, he was fearless enough to sing. And he sung Michael Jackson. To this day his old teachers and school friends remember that performance.

So Michael Jackson is only important to me because he is important to my brother. I am grateful for the escape that Michael's music provided to him. My own connection to Michael Jackson's music is limited to the Michael Jackson's poster my sister and I had on our wall. The one with him dressed in white with the yellow cardigan. He was so cute. I loved staring at that poster. I will spare the details, but suffice it to say he catapulted me into puberty. However, in the Michael Jackson v. Prince debate, I was a Prince gal. Did I mention I was going through puberty? It was an easy choice.

My brother has every piece of music, every concert tape, video, magazine article, book, program that Michael Jackson has ever created, posed, or participated in. Yesterday we watched some of those recordings. We watched Motown 25, his anniversary concert, Oprah's 1993 interview with him, and Moonwalker. We also watched a couple of scenes from The Wiz. The depth of his talent is staggering. Watching all of that made me realize how we will probably never experience a talent so complete as Michael Jackson's. Also, the Gray Sibling Michael Jackson memorial day was another opportunity for us to get together and laugh and reminisce and be Holly, Michele and Derek: Lewis and Brenda's kids. Finding laughter in tragedy, beauty in ugliness, and bravery in the face of the fear of illness.

It is ironic that 22 years ago my brother with swollen face and puffy eyes sang in tribute to Michael Jackson, and yesterday my brother again out of remission with swollen face and puffy throat celebrated Michael Jackson's life after experiencing his death. It was very odd that it happened the way it did again linking Michael Jackson with my brother's health. But I was again grateful to Michael Jackson for providing our escape and a space and place for us to gather again in tribute.

The truth and nothing but the truth

2009-06-14T23:17:00.004-04:00

129 lbs
no drinks
still eating with some sense
completely off the lexapro

I have a confession to make: I lie
I lie mainly to myself. If I lie to someone else its to protect me from the lies I've told myself. If I lie to you it means I don't plan on being in your space very long. The lies I tell myself are pernicious. They are harmful lies that eat me from the inside out. Part of this blog is to help me be more honest with myself. I am discovering that the truth of what is is not as scary as what I imagined.

The old adage about weaving a wicked web is very true. Lies are complicated, especially the ones we tell ourselves. They don't start out complicated but they get that way. Most of the poor choices I've made is from one main lie I told myself, "I am not good enough". I'm a good liar. I believed that lie with my whole being. It led to the fear that others would find out that I am not good enough. That was the biggest secret of all. I had to make sure that no one would find out that I am not good enough.
My belief in that lie led to many decisions I have made.

Because of that lie, I got married. Because of that lie, I don't let people get to know me. Because of that lie, I quit a job. Because of that lie, I once got fired. Because of that lie, I took jobs because of the title. Because of that lie, I don't let people get to know me, and keep them at a distance. Because of that lie, at one point I quit acting, playing the violin, and writing. Because of that lie, I was sad if a man didn't love me right away.

So yes I lie. But mainly I tell that one lie over and over again. "I am not good enough". It leads to more lies. Once I stop telling this one lie the others disappear. There would be no reason to lie anymore.

As I am learning to disbelieve this lie it is restoring my faith in marriage, it is restoring my faith in other people, but mainly it is restoring my faith in me. And that's the truth.

Transformers and Chocolate Milk

2009-06-13T21:28:00.005-04:00

As I lay here in the spot where you were, now left cold, I inhale the smell of of you. Your hair though untwisted, smells of somone's care. I feel like I've lived a lifetime more than you, yet I've never experienced a touch in the small of my back, fingertips in my roots, nor glimpses of me in someone else's eyes.

I want you to come back and maybe next time I'll show more of me....maybe....next time.

But for now, I will inhale you in the spot you left, now gone cold.

You just ran across my mind

2009-06-12T00:09:00.003-04:00

129 lbs
no drinks
no pills
and eating with some sense

Just watched that video by Jill Scott. "Cross My Mind" and then you did, cross my mind that is. wondered what you were doing, how you were. Thought of texting but thought better of it. talking with you, hangin with you although infrequent, was so much fun...I used to picture us together. I haven't pictured me with anyone since. But I know thats not what you want or wanted, so I burned the bridge so I wouldn't hope anymore.

but you crossed my mind, and I hope that sometimes I cross yours.

My period is coming anyday, so I know this will pass. Its probably just hormones . . .

When Someone Shows You Who They Are . . .

2009-06-09T12:37:00.003-04:00

When someone shows you who they are, believe them. I'm getting better at that as I get older.

I went out with this guy. We planned to meet up at the IHOP just to shoot the breeze. He ordered food, then stuck me with the bill. He apologized and said he would pay me back by the weekend. That never happened. Later he borrowed ten dollars and I haven't gotten that back yet either. So its funny that he's always talking about how people should be more giving. Now I kn0w its just so he can take more. Yes, I know who he is. I believe him. I could use that money right about now.

But of course he has good points. He has the cutest dimples, he is a musician, and has ridiculously awesome head game. But I know who he really is because he showed me.

The next one is dishonest. Not maliciously dishonest mind you. Just youth driven dishonest for no reason. Silly little things like broken dates, no phone call when he says he will call. Dumb stuff, but it tells me something. Once we made plans to go out. He called after being 2 hours late saying he wasn't coming. Clearly he doesn't get that a mother of two has to make serious arrangements for a night out. So now I know never pay a sitter to go out with him, he's not reliable. Another time he was going out of town. I asked if this meant we wouldn't be able to go out friday. He said he would be back by friday. But I knew that he wouldn't be back in time. I didn't even plan on hearing from him and I wasn't disappointed. He gave me a call Saturday saying he'd call Sunday for us to hook up. I didn't even let him know that I would have the kids on Sunday, because I knew he wouldn't call. And he didn't.

But when we did hang out that time, he was so funny and I felt so comfortable with him. And he touched my hair and feet, which drove me half crazy. But I am not going to bet the farm on anything he says because he showed me who he is and I believe him.

So the things I need in a mate

a friend, like a homey that is cool enough to kick it with my peeps and me to kick it with his
someone who loves me for me, who lets me show who I am and loves me because of and in spite of what is seen
someone who is creative
someone who is honest and tells me what I need to know despite the consequences.

My parents have been married for 41 years, they have showed each other who they are and chose to stay and build a life together. After 41 years they are there for each other. A couple of weeks ago, my mom came down the stairs with hickeys on her neck. (hee hee) Her leaning into me and saying, "uh-huh girl, he's back!" When people say marriage doesn't work or is unnatural for people to live their lives together, I reject that. Marriage doesn't work because when people show them who they are, they don't believe them.

In general people lack the bravery to show their real selves and say accept me as I am or don't. And others see what they want to see instead of what is . . .

Love shouldn't be blind. Love can only exist with 20/20 vision.

Justice is four years old today

2009-05-27T10:52:00.000-04:00

Justice's birthday is today. He is four years old. He is different than his brother. The story of how he came to be is also very different. I tried to get pregnant for two years straight. I got pregnant so quickly with DJ; I was shcoked that I didn't get pregnant as quickly. Every month I got my period, I would cry and cry and cry. It was like my dearest love was leaving me stranded day after day month after month. I was so impatient for him to come. I felt so alone and so empty.

We had just moved back to Bowie. Damion put in these really strong smelling plug-in air freshners. The smell was sickeningly sweet. So much so I actually got sick. I was sick for a few days. So much so I took a day off from my new job. On a whim, I took a pregnancy test. Finally after two years and three months I was pregnant. The ironic part of it is I had just gone to the ob-gyn to get more birth control pills because I was tired of having cramps and being disappointed every month. I also sensed that my marriage was not going to be resucitated by having another child. Well when you least expect it . . .

I had an awful fight with Damion when I was 8 months pregnant. He broke things. I had to run from him. I cried so hard capillaries burst in my face. It looked like I was covered in freckles . . .a black Peppermint Patty. More than ever I became impatient with waiting for Justice. I so wanted to meet him. Also he was getting awfully heavy and I looked like I was pregnant in my ass more than anything else . . .Anyway, I began to dilate early. I was having productive contractions but it was too early. The doctor told me to stay off my feet to slow things down. The problem was I had just started a new job and really couldn't afford to go on complete bed rest. So I went to work but stayed seated. It was a blast rolling down the hallway in my awesome rolling chair.

My doctor finally broke my water at 38 weeks. The birth was pretty straight forward. A few pushes and out he came. a little over 7 pounds. Justice and I met a little after midnight. He started breastfeeding right away and did so most of the night...greedy bugger.

Justice has been a different challenge than DJ was. While DJ was a healthy baby, Justice had frequent colds, fevers and ear infections. He lost hearing for a period of time before he got the tubes put in which delayed his speech a bit. Justice looks like me but has a temper like his father. So strongwilled. DJ is a mama's boy, but Justice is a fiercely independent kid who gravitates towards his father. I feel like I just got to understand him over the past year. He has developed quite the personality. He loves his brother so much. He repeats everything he says. Once DJ got punished for something and was crying. Then Justice began crying. I said, "Hey what's wrong. Why are YOU crying?" Without missing a beat he said, "because DJ is my very best friend."

Justice loves bread, ravioli, chicken nuggets, and pizza. He loves Mario Bros. He plays Luigi and loves to wear denim overalls. Justice is enamored with his mommy. He loves to play in my dreds and make them cover his face. Justice is naughty. He currently loves to say "poo poo" and "pee pee" and thinks its hilarious. Justice makes up knock-knock jokes. They are not funny. He has a rich imagination and prefers playing with his brother or by himself happily. Justice loves music. He loves Regina Carter's Pavane. He loves jazz. He makes up nonsense words to wordless saxophone compositions. He said that sometimes the music sounds so sad. He also loves soca and likes to shake his "bumpa" to the music. If you say whine down low, he will reply, "whine down so". When Justice speaks he has an accent I can't quite place...

Justice is my baby. My independent, naughty, musical, genius baby. He is brilliant. He knows al his letters and his numbers. But it is more important to me that he knows that his brother is his very best friend, that music sometimes sounds sad, and fun is still fun if there is only one. Justice is my strong, loud complement to the older, pacifist funny man. I waited for Justice for 2 years. He is four years old today.

When the dark purple falls. . .

2009-04-23T10:34:00.004-04:00

124.5
20mg Lexapro (up from 10mg)
Shrimp Scamp
2 grown half and halfs (sweet tea vodka/lemonade)

My weight had gone up to 128.5. I was excited until I weighed myself again and it was gone. Must have been the monthly bloat.

Now that I'm coming out of my anxiety ridden/depressive fog, I realize that I am super behind at work and have no real prospects for a job next year. There are major cut backs at work and I don't think my performance as sped guru has warranted staying here in that capapcity. Moreover, I promised myself to find a job which highlights my strengths. I have a few leads but nothing solid, which makes me uneasy.

My divorce court date is May 12th. After that, I will be an official free woman. Mixed emotions... Now that it is finally here it has made me nostalgic about my past, and makes me realize this isn't at all how I pictured my life to turn out. 36, 2 children, no property, pushing a 96 Lincoln. But I am at least hopeful that what I do have, I can maintain BY MYSELF. I am anxious about his behavior at court. I hope he doesn't cry or anything . . .

I am dating again. I tried to relegate the dude to just the physical but he persists. I realize that I am afraid to let it be anymore than that because I am trying to avoid rejection. For someone as confident as I am, I am discovering parts of me that are still so insecure and damaged from my marriage, my past relationships, and general kicks in the shins that life sometimes hands out.

Last night I was feeling pretty low. Job mainly, but also some memories I had been trying to fight back. I reached for my phone to text someone. (That's my M.O. reaching out so I don't have to spend time with sadness). But I decided not to. "No one is thinking of me," I thought. "I'm not going to bother anybody." I put the phone down, turned on my side, and began to cry. Just a little. "No one is thinking of me," more tears came down. The phone buzzed. A text.

"Whats on your mind"
"Alot"
"I could tell by fb status, tweets. . ."
"thats what I do. Hesitant to talk but will put out a fb status or tweet in a minute"
"We'll talk soon"
"Thank you for thinking of me"
"Always do . . ."

I still cried last night. But I felt better to be thought of. But the thought I will begin to depend on such communciation scares me. The prospects of learning to open myself up to someone else again scares me even more. I know it is necessary to move on and even if he's not the one to open up to, I have to be brave. Be brave enough to heal . . .

Be brave little girl . . .

The Attack

2009-04-15T22:17:00.003-04:00

128.5 lbs
Firefly Sweet tea Vodka
burger king (boo)

I had an anxiety attack today. Funny it happened just moments after I decided not to get my prescription refilled. I guess I'll get it filled tomorrow.

Driving home from Target. Now that I am far from work I'm getting home an hour later than I'm used to. Today I stopped at target for some things, then the liquor store (where I found firefly) and then at burger king for dinner (chik fil a line was to darn long). Justice was screaming, DJ was yelling at Justice, Justice not in his seat belt. I kept yelling at him to sit back and put his seat belt back on. He kept yelling for more french fries...The rain and me trying to hurry home. Thinking about the dog and DJ's homework that still wasn't done. Then it happened the boom boom boom. It started the palpitations, the dizziness, the awful sinking feeling...

A bit scary happening while I was driving. It was gone in less than 10 minutes. I took my last lexapro in the sample pack that he had given me to tide me over till i filled the prescription. I'm disappointed that I will need to take medication for this. I don't like feeling that I am not in control of my own behavior. Disappointing . . .

My anxiety attacks feel like thishttp://www.facebook.com/note.php?created&&suggest&note_id=85876390916

finally

2009-04-01T21:04:00.003-04:00

no food indulgences
124 lbs.
pear vodka cranberry

It didn't happen when I moved.
It didn't happen when I lugged the furniture in the flat basket at Ikea
Not when a stranger helped me tie the new furniture to the car and had to lug it in all by myself and pulled my back out. Not when i thought about putting together all this crap by myself.
Not when I came home to a disaster area because the dog had gotten out of his crate and strewn trash all over the new apartment.

When I watched Clean House, The messiest home in the country #2, thats when it happened.

The tears came.

2 summers ago. when i was a not so happily married woman. We took the kids to Ocean City, our annual trip. We stayed at a pretty nice resort. We watched The messiest home in the country # 1. Seeing the second show, triggered the memories. Us as a family, us spending time together. Us. The Codringtons. Mother, Father, children.

We are not that anymore, and I miss it. The family part. What I always wanted. what I grew up with. I don't have that anymore. I miss it and it makes me sad.

tears. never cried over the lack of him. I still am not missing him in particular. I'm missing family. the tears are ok. they are important. Important that I am feeling this right now, because I tend to get over involved with the nonsense and the faux drama of the world. This thing that I'm feeling now, this pulling at my chest and downturn of my mouth, this is important and I don't mind feeling it. I've never really mourned . . .

Starting over is a bitch

2009-03-30T22:38:00.007-04:00

1 pear vodka cranberry
6 pieces of stewed chicken, Mcdonalds breakfast and dinner
123 pounds (keeping track-Goal weight 140)
1 anxiety attack since last post

So this is my like 3rd time starting over, and it never gets any easier

One of the major issues since leaving my old man was that he would use things that I needed as leverage for taking him back.

I hadn't asked him for anything except to continue paying for my car. The only trouble with that is that everytime i would turn down his ridiculous request to get back together, he would threaten to take back the car. Once he did, came and took the car. He brought it back, but it was a sketchy 8 hours.

So, I had to move out of my 2nd start over house since the mice clearly believed I was encroaching on their territory. Now I am in Laurel. Yeah, i know. So far. I know I won't get any "unexpected drop ins". So sad. not sexy at all.

Moreover, since the car had died, the husband refused to pay to get it fix (or couldn't). He also used this as leverage and drove me back in forth to work for 2 weeks. Then the conversation about why I won't take him back. Then after I refused him, the refusals to give even my mood a lift.

So I did the grown up thing and moved into the cheapest, but nicest, place I could find. I am saving 700 bucks a month. My father sold me his big ole Lincoln town car. It too is unsexy, but I am making the most of it. Yes, being mature can be unsexy. But I finally feel free. I don't need anything of him. I can do for myself.

So starting over is a bitch, but at least I have an extra 700 bucks to buy a couch, a drink every now and again, and possibly some cute shoes.

Reacquaintace

2009-03-25T03:49:00.003-04:00

1 screwdriver
8 shrimp wontons
shrimp scampi w/pasta
several oatmeal chocolate chip cookies

The Standards and Stems blog is gone. It was a really good one. Telling tales of a newer teachers experience in a public charter school in the city. I think his admin found out about it. Made them look kind of foolish. Anyway, its gone. Its a shame. It was really good. I think the blogger should continue to write, but this time don't put the link on your public facebook page for the world (including your students) to see it. DUH!

So its almost 4 am and I am awake. Insomnia is back with a vengeance. blah. Anyway I have alot to do. My dad sold me his car. I have to get insurance for it and register it before he will allow me to drive it. I also have to begin packing. oh joy. The worst things ever.

A lot to accomplish. Maybe thats why the insomnia. I also have a rash on both legs. Very itchy. Not sure what that is from...but all that scratchin is making me itch. or vice versa

One thing I like about the insomnia. I like hearing the boys sleep. Every now and again one of them will chuckle. I LOVE knowing that they have funny dreams. Thats important to me.

Also the Handy Manny truck in the kids room keeps going off. I keep hearing, "lets fix the spark plugs" "you fixed the spark plugs" or the voice of Wilmer Valderamma singing, "Trabajamos juntos!" Ugh. Either it has a short or one of my furry pests has gotten into the thing and is trying to take a spin.

Laurel and the Broken Lease

2009-03-21T09:33:00.002-04:00

no food indulgences
2 lemonades with a vodka twist
0 Lexapros

I went to see the apartment in Laurel yesterday. Getting there was a huge production. I spent the night over my sister's. She was going to drop the kids off then take me to Laurel then on her way to work drop me at my interview.

I think I should be clear that I love my sister and she does lovely things for me.

She is also a control freak maniac. She woke up late and was rushing around like crazy person. I suggested dropping the kids off at their father's first since it is on the way to Bowie. She screamed, "Hannah has to go to school!" As if I was suggesting that Hannah be late. So I left it alone. While she is driving she is doing all sorts of things. Checking email on her blackberry, putting on makeup, she was paying very little attention the the road. At one point she took her foot off the brake at a red light and almost rear ended a deer park water truck. I took a sharp intake of breath. She looked up and slammed on the brakes. She looked at me and screamed at the top of her lungs, "WHATS WRONG WITH YOU!" How her almost slamming into a truck is my fault, I have no idea. But that is Holly. And she wonders why I just won't move in with her instead of moving to Laurel. Yeah chica exhibit one: your crazy screaming fits. I spent 9 years getting yelled at, I kinda want to avoid the rage freaks from now on.

Anyway, I saw the apartment. Its very nice. bottom floor which will help when I have to walk the dog. Maybe he can get like those dogs on tv that scratch the door when they have to go to the bathroom. Here's hoping...

Went to my job interview. It went really well. They have interviews the week of the 30th and I think will probably contact me either way after that. I really want this job now. They are building a separate middle school. I would be the queen of my own castle. It seems like a great team of folks with a building full of light. The best thing is that what they need is what I am best at. So I'm pretty sure that 70% of my time will be devoted to my strengths.

After my interview, I went back to work. It kind of felt wack being in that building after being with such positivity for 3 hours...Well must make it through this school year and decide from there.

I'm doing good on the College Hoops. I am just one game out. Looking forward to the second round. That will be when the men from the boys will be separated. Ha! Okay, gotta make a game plan about packing up and moving out.

peace out. hopefully will have something much juicier to blog about next time.

Its been a minute

2009-03-17T23:42:00.002-04:00

I'm going to use this blog to be more like a blog. I've been using it just to post some of my writing, which I will still do from time to time, but I will also be more bloggery. Yes that is what you call a compound, complex sentence. It is not a run-on I promise. So I will also keep track of my indulgences a la Bridget Jones. So here goes. Do try to keep up.

3/17/09
7 tacos
1 Sunny D/vodka screwdriver
0 Lexapros (still haven't done follow up with doctor to refill prescription)

St. Patrick's Day! Um yeah thats all I got. I'm not a big follower of the Irish holidays. One thing it does remind me of is that i have 2 six packs of long neck guiness in my refrigerator. I hate guiness. I got it for my housewarming party and i still have a lot left. It taunts me because I don't have a man that would come over to drink it. The move to DC did absolutely nothing for me in the romance department. Well, thats not exactly true, but whatever, I'm still stuck with beer I will never drink. I wonder if beer goes bad?

Oh I'm moving out of DC by the way. The mice situation has gotten too much for me. I don't see them all the time, but enough to be self conscious about ever having people over. Its really gross. I will miss my house. It is so cute and so near eastern market. I really loved saying, "yes, I live in capitol hill." even though it is only east capitol hill and I'm pretty sure the house across the street is a crack den. But I am looking forward to closets that use hangers, having a dishwasher and carpets that were put in after the turn of the century.

I will save my snarky pop culture comments for twitter. You should follow me www.twitter.com/meeshelmybell.

I think twitter is full of haters who want to be followed but think they're too good to follow everyone else. A website full of Indian Chiefs and no Indians. HMMPH!

I've been practicing my violin at least twice a week. I am surpised how much I remember after not playing for years. I'm pretty good. I really need a teacher though. It will help me be better and provide me with exercises that work on my fingerings and bow control. okay slipped into violin nerd mode. Sorry.

Tomorrow my friend from high school is coming over to take pictures of me. His photos are brilliant. I can't wait to see what we can do. All girls like their picture taken, makes us feel puuurdy. So, very excited.

Hmm what else? I am really trying to take control of my life. I have realized that I have been just been waiting for stuff to happen. A lot of stuff has been happening but I feel I need to take a more active part. That is part of the reason I'm moving out of DC. Don't like mice and pay too much for a tiny cottage, then move. Unhappy and unsuccessful at work? Try to find a job that actually accesses my strengths. I have some offers and some opportunities that are presenting themselves, I am going to see them through to the end and make a choice that will make me happy. Even if that means staying where I am. But it will absolutely not be in the same position. Special education is all warped and corrupt. I am tired of being in situations that cause me to have to go along with things that are not in the best interest of the students I'm supposed to be protecting. Anyway, I've griped about that before...moving on

Actually, I think I'm done. Going to sleep have to wake up early to catch the train. Did I mention my car died? Not too big of a deal since i'm pretty sure the ex husband had stopped making the payments and was about to be reposessed. My dad has a car he is not using. A huge decidedly unsexy Lincoln town car. I'm going to drive that (hopefully if he lets me) until I save some money to buy something I really want and until I pay down some of my debt. See how responsible I'm being. Remember that as you have the urge to laugh at me as I'm trying to drive that huge boat around town.

Until the next blog

Michele

Driven to Distraction

2008-12-08T15:58:00.001-05:00

too far on the outside
to attempt to look in
hands dried and cracked
from the cold and smelling
of Murphys Oil Soap
as I try to scrub my floors
and clean away
my last memories
of him

And when there’s silence
I daydream scenes
Of him seeing me at my
Most beautiful
Most charming
Most wanted

So again I begin
To scrub and scrub
Leaving floors clean
But the spot in my heart
That he did not earn
Will not leave
Sometimes the images of what could be
Are stronger than the truth
Of what is

Heeding Lady Macbeth’s call
Seeing things that aren’t there
Driven insane
From loneliness and the tricks
Loneliness plays on my heart
Out out!

Yet I keep on scrubbing
And I smell the Murphys Oil soap
And I feel my cracked, dry hands
And I see my clean floors
But I still can’t scrub him away
I never even had a chance
To fall in love
My house has never been
So clean

Sometimes

2008-11-12T23:14:00.001-05:00

Sometimes its hard for me to breathe

The silence is becoming my friend. Before it was a threat of the nothingness my life was becoming.
But now I am learning to welcome it. Silence. But still its hard for me to breathe sometimes. I’ve decided that I will stop fighting who I am. Its okay that I am an independent woman who needs to be taken care of. And who only saw marijuana up close when you used to visit. Too bad I never saw you through your purple haze. But I miss your laughter and your company. With all your nastiness that makes my face hot just thinking about it

You were …so…nasty

I really just miss the company.

I find myself listening for footsteps that never reach my door. But I made the choice to spend time with someone I really didn’t like, just for the company. I guess you felt that. Only now do I realize the consequences of our behavior. So now when the late night texts start coming again. I ignore them. I won’t do that to you again. Even if you want me to.

Its hard for me to breathe sometimes

I hate that people don’t let me be Other than what they have written about me in their heads. Like how I am such a heavy drinker even though I have only drank on 5 occasions since August. Which is something because August almost killed me dead; Trapped by your circumstance and past mistakes.
And maybe its true. Because why else would I be keeping count .

Its hard for me to breathe sometimes.

I’m learning that my happiness is no one else’s responsibility but my own. But I also know that it feels so good for someone to want that responsibility. And sometimes its okay to want to feel good. It doesn’t make me any less or selfish or faulty. Because feeling good helps me to breathe.

Because sometimes its about seeing what you want and getting it. Or not. And moving on . Or not
But making the choice.

I see my father and mother. Father sick. Mother by his side. Keeping him well. When you are sick, who will be there to hold your hand, clean your body. Do for you when you can’t do for yourself . Who will do for me?

My mother and father made a choice. As will I.

So here I am

Age 35. 36 around the corner. Still waiting for footsteps. But knowing if I hear them or if I don’t, Sometimes, It will still be hard for me to breathe.

Discovery

2008-10-10T19:28:00.000-04:00

After the storms had passed,
The screaming of nature’s fury
And the driving water’s strength
Had descended into next to nothingness
The wonderment of the thick humid
Air was all that remained
We came to the moist meadow and struggled to breathe
Light air

There amongst the grass and weeds
The dew and the new sun
In the midst of a virgin morning
We were brought to our knees
As the beautiful colors enveloped us
And the tears rose up from deep inside our chest

Where peace and utter joy mingle in light,
Where beauty and knowledge beckon like sirens in the sea
And the eternity of a moment dances before disappearing
There we were

In the portal transcendent
Where love is born

Lessons from the Red Sea

2008-09-15T15:36:00.002-04:00

Excerpt from Exodus, chap. 14/ My poem in response

As Pharaoh approached, the people of Israel looked up and panicked when they saw the Egyptians overtaking them. They cried out to the Lord, 11 and they said to Moses, “Why did you bring us out here to die in the wilderness? Weren’t there enough graves for us in Egypt? What have you done to us? Why did you make us leave Egypt? 12 Didn’t we tell you this would happen while we were still in Egypt? We said, ‘Leave us alone! Let us be slaves to the Egyptians. It’s better to be a slave in Egypt than a corpse in the wilderness!’”

13 But Moses told the people, “Don’t be afraid. Just stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today. The Egyptians you see today will never be seen again. 14 The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm

26 When all the Israelites had reached the other side, the Lord said to Moses, “Raise your hand over the sea again. Then the waters will rush back and cover the Egyptians and their chariots and charioteers.” 27 So as the sun began to rise, Moses raised his hand over the sea, and the water rushed back into its usual place. The Egyptians tried to escape, but the Lord swept them into the sea. 28 Then the waters returned and covered all the chariots and charioteers—the entire army of Pharaoh. Of all the Egyptians who had chased the Israelites into the sea, not a single one survived.

29 But the people of Israel had walked through the middle of the sea on dry ground, as the water stood up like a wall on both sides. 30 That is how the Lord rescued Israel from the hand of the Egyptians that day. And the Israelites saw the bodies of the Egyptians washed up on the seashore. 31 When the people of Israel saw the mighty power that the Lord had unleashed against the Egyptians, they were filled with awe before him. They put their faith in the Lord and in his servant Moses.

Sometimes your enemies are in front of you
Sometimes they are chasing you from behind
It’s best to keep moving
Because fear will grip you
Into paralysis

I keep forgetting I am chosen

Making sure I am alone
So my loneliness isn’t a surprise
Pushing people away
So I won’t miss them later
Because I know I’m not enough
Not pretty enough
Not comfortable enough
Not me enough
To make anyone happy

But once I remembered
That I am never alone
That I’m always enough
That I have nothing to fear
My joy came back
My courage came back
Even my dog came back
All these lessons I’m learning
Lessons from the red sea
Sankofa’s gift
To me

A lone star state

2008-08-23T11:57:00.003-04:00

If daddy’s little girl has no daddy, then who is she?

It had been nagging her the whole flight. “You should call. . .you should call,” the nag nagged. But she didn’t want to call. Even if she was right, she didn’t know what she would say or how she would comfort him. Especially because of her father and his failing kidneys and his failing heart and how she was afraid that she would someday be in his spot taking calls of comfort. So she did what people do nowadays when they are afraid to speak, she texts. “R u ok?” He texts back, “No”. She texted back some other canned words not sure what to say. She didn’t know if this meant she had passed or not. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t ok. And there was nothing she could do about it. Being in a helpless situation is not a comfortable feeling for a control freak. But knowing this wasn’t about her, she plowed on with her day.

The week was full of working and driving and watching the Olympics. It was also full of boredom and rain and forced introspection. She checked the internet a couple of days later. She sees something that lets her know she is gone. She wonders how he is doing. Then decides that is stupid to wonder. How do you think he is doing? The nag nagged again. She texts, “I’m thinking of u.” and goes on to work. That was only partly true, she was thinking of him and how she wanted to hug him and nuzzle him and tell him it will be ok, even though she knew it would not be. But she also was thinking of her father and what she would do. She knew exactly. Get in the bed, curl up in a ball, and drink until she couldn’t feel a thing. The thought of that scared her. Maybe she wouldn’t. Who would take care of the boys? Then she felt a sense of relief that maybe she would be strong enough for them. But still the feeling nagged.

It persisted into Wednesday. She thought it was work stuff. It was hard being away the week before school starts. Not to mention getting her own children ready. School supplies, uniform pants, big boy underwear. So much to do. She called into work a couple times and shared with a coworker the feeling she couldn’t shake. She told her everything was fine at work and she should relax. But still the feeling nagged.

The next morning while reaching out of the shower to close the door, she fell. Hard. While sitting in the tub, trying to catch her breath, a thought came to her. If I would have bumped my head and passed out, no one would know. I am here alone. That’s when the tears came. She hated crying. She roughly rubbed her eyes, got up, got dressed and went to work. Midway through the pain the dull ache in her side grew as well as a grapefruit size bruise on the left side of her torso. She decided to be safe not sorry and went to the hospital. After 5 hours, 3 xrays, and 1 cat scan, the diagnosis: You are bruised inside and out. Thanks for that. She chose not to linger on the irony.

That night she was recounting the story about how she fell to her sister. She was complaining how she was in the hospital and no one would answer their phone. Her sister said, “Well you know we were dealing with stuff.” What stuff she wondered. Then her sister nonchalantly said that their dad had to go into the hospital. He was so swollen they couldn’t even use the shunt that had been implanted in his arm for dialysis for all the swelling. Ah so that was the feeling. She didn’t want to find out this way. There should have been some formal phone call. But maybe her family knew that she may curl into a ball and drink until she was numb, and they couldn’t have that happen while she was in Houston. The funeral for his mother was Friday, the day she came home. She exchanged some texts with him and she marveled how he worked earlier that day. He said it was good to keep busy. Yeah, that makes sense. She was glad that he had something to do that for him. She was sad to think of him at her funeral. She was sad to think of her father being in the hospital without her there. She was sadder to think that she would have to go see him. She didn’t want to. She got on the plane, did some much needed work, and looked out the window as she waited to land.

Her best friend picked her up. Her best friend, her boyfriend, and her dog. The whole crew to carry her back to her house. She didn’t tell her about her dad. She still didn’t want to talk about it. So she came home, checked for mice, mixed up a cocktail. She called her sister. They talked. She drank. They all were going to the hospital the next day. And by all it included her. She mixed a few more cocktails, curled up into a ball, and went to sleep.

Trouble

2008-08-18T17:56:00.005-04:00

This man is going be trouble
I do not want any trouble
I do not love him
I'm not sure I like him
But I can tell
That he will be, could just be,
This man might mean trouble
For me

He was in my house
in my space
in my bed
between my legs
and then I thought
about the next time
Thats when I knew that he meant trouble
Big trouble for me

I do not love him
I barely like him
But I can tell

He was at my table
talking to me
laughing with me
drinking with me
asking me about me
But I won't tell him
"What you see is what you get"
I told him
Because I could see
that he was trying to make trouble
more trouble for me

I do not love him
I like him just a little
We are just friends
But I can tell
that trouble, scary trouble
is on the way

I want him to come again
eat maybe
drink probably
talk definitely
provide distractions: a movie? perhaps
But just that I am planning a next time
Proves that this man
means nothing but trouble
for me

I miss his face
I look forward to his words
And have become dependent on his company
And I don't even like him
Yes, I'm in trouble
Deep, deep trouble
He is causing all sorts of trouble
for me.

Winter 1948

2008-08-09T22:34:00.002-04:00

Gloria

Winter 1948

He’s not coming.

The thought was colder than the February air that was numbing her fingers. Gloria’s eyes stayed transfixed to the bend in the road from where he should have been traveling three hours ago. She began to worry about his safety. It wasn’t safe for any coloreds to travel down that part of town this late in the evening. Not even a foreign one. It always seemed strange to Gloria that white people owned everything, even the roads, the dirt. It was impossible to even exist and begin your own life, love who you choose without their approval.

She couldn’t even bring herself to walk into the house to warm up. As if her presence on that porch on that chair was enough to will him to her. As if all he needed was her eyes transfixed on the road as his beacon to this place.
“Come inside, girl. You’re going to freeze to death.”
Yes, freeze to death. That is what would happen. Either he would come or she would die and she would be frozen.

Little by little her worry turned to despair. The reason behind his absence didn’t matter. The plans they had made would be of no use. The Spanish she learned, the job leads in Philly, the English accent he’d perfected, all useless without him.
“Don’t worry,” he’d told her. I will come for you and we will be together. We can be a family and I will take care of you. Just wait for me.”

She wondered if his family figured out his plans. They hated her. They hated the fact she was a negro. They hated the fact that she had no father. They hated the fact that of all the Mexican girls that had migrated with them or they had left in New Orleans, he chose a nigger girl with no family or culture to speak of.
It didn’t matter. Even if he had never loved her, even if it had all been a lie, even if he was lying hurt in a ditch on his way to her, the result was the same.

He’s not coming.

And so after four hours and 26 minutes on her porch in the dead of winter, she died. She waited until every feeling, organ, and piece of hope was frozen. And when that was done, she got up, gathered her things, and walked back into the house.
She was dead, every piece of her. Every piece except the one growing inside her fifteen year old belly.

Honoring Bob Nesta Marley

2008-07-29T22:02:00.011-04:00

July 27, 2008
12:32am-The last of the texts between GM and me. Something about the anonymity of texting and the lateness of the hour makes me very excited to go to sleep and think of him

6:55am-The dog is up, barking his head off. I think the worm medication keeps him awake. I go downstairs and walk him. When we come back in I realize that he will be in his crate most of the day, so I give him the run of the house while I try to sleep some more.

9:18-The boys are still asleep. We had quite a trip yesterday. It exhausted them. I get up to get their clothes ready for the day and the next. I start getting more texts from GM. I love when that happens: to go to bed talking to someone and waking up with the same someone. It’s like we slept together. But not really at all, just in my mind. I shared my summer to-do list. I was nervous he would pick the wrong one. Dudes always go for the threesome. But he didn’t, he said he would see about helping me keep my skin clear. That is a good thing because I could feel a pimple coming on my chin.

10:30-the boys are up and in the bathtub. They leave so much water on the floor. It is messy, but I love that I am not bathing them separately yet. DJ is beginning to complain, I know I will have to stop this soon. I hustle them out of the tub and into the lotioning and dressing portion of the little boy makeover. I haven’t even showered yet.

11:30 Breakfast is done. We get in the car and start the trip back into Maryland to drop them off at their dad’s and for me to get to brandi’s by noon. I suggested noon. I mean I know the trip to Wolf Trap was going to be closer to an hour than 40 minutes. Not to mention the trip from the car to will-call then to a free patch o’ land to set up shop.

12:20 Randi still hasn’t arrived to Brandi’s yet. I can feel myself getting anxious. It didn’t matter. We still had to pick up juices to mix with the vodka and roll up . . .well nevermind. We don’t get on the road until 1:05pm.

1:50-We’re still on the road. It begins to rain. I am relieved. Summer storms are fleeting. I am learning to let life have its own timetable. If we had left on time, we would have been soaked. I am relaxed now.

2:20-We finally arrive and split up the load to lug up the hill to the will call. We get our tickets. There are very few seats left. We squeeze into a spot on the hill. It is obvious that we won’t actually see any acts. But this really wasn’t about the actual seeing of the acts, it is about being out in the elements experiencing good music and friendship.

3:10 Listening to the opening act. They are pretty good. But at this point I am a drink and a half in. I meet Matt or Mike. I was dared to go ask him to take a picture of his dreds. Don’t dare me . . . I did.

3:30 Barrington Levy comes on Under Mi Sensi is the bomb. We get up and start moving. Brandi, Randi, Denise and I. Dancing . . .Singing . .. badly. But so much fun!

4:00 The sun has emerged. Oh Hell is hot but Wolf Trap on Sunday was soooo much hotta. The heat and the vodka has gotten to me. I lay down to rest. 30 seconds later Matt/Mike shows up to chat me up. He takes his hat off for me to see his waist length locs. He said he only is ok with letting pretty girls touch it. Yeah game is not tight. Very weak in fact. Then he tells me he’s in a band (The I-ternals) and will be at the Sept. 7th festival at RFK. Yeah u need more than au natural locs and “I’m in a band” Cool though. He leaves after a minute or two.

4:17-Ziggy Marley takes the stage. I’m sorry, but to me he is the most boring of the Marley brothers, next to Julian that is. So we drink vodka and rum slushies! Yum! I am having a good time. Love spending time with those girls. I’m drinking a lot. So is brandi. Every 20 minutes she asks, “Where’s the vodka?” Its in the same place bran. I’ll pour.

4:47-Stephen Marley takes the stage. I enjoy him. There is more dancing and singing badly. There is a clay colored Jamaican who is flirting with Denise. I mean seriously he is clay colored, with the thickest accent. But he is more dancing and fun. He eventually dances with all of us. So much fun. Beautiful . . .

5:14-Damian comes! Jr. Gong himself doing his Traffic Jam piece. Dancing and singing and chanting well this time. This was our jam a couple of years ago!! I do a shot with some dudes passing by. I spill most of it purposely. Yeah, I always know when to say when

6:00-We pack up and get back on the road. We crank up brandi’s ipod and sing and dance on the way back. It was such a good day. Love and singing and dancing and friendship and freeeeeedom.

After 6:30-We get back to brandi’s. I grab a couple pieces of chicken and some juice to go with my cheap vodka at home and drive back to DC. I drunk text a couple of folks. Not a good idea. I will have to stick to those words later . . .damn, damn, damn. But liquor is my truth serum, it was all true, but not as complicated or as serious as he thought. All my feelings are deep, its who I am. And I just had a day of freeeeedom. I won’t be held captive by worry about being understood. I am who I am and it is what it is . . .that’s all.

8:41- I get a couple of texts. I have no idea, because I apparently am sleeping hard. Not passed out, mind you, just sleeping hard.

10:27-I notice the texts and respond thinking I just got them. I realize I got them an hour or so ago. Oh well. Back and forth, back and forth. I swore I wasn’t going to text him anymore. We don’t do well over text. Unlike GM, our text never really convey what we want to convey. Who knows, maybe GM and I shouldn’t be texting either. It feels false. Though it bothers me more with him.

11:21- I get the pictures from the day. The day was more awesome than I realized. Looking at those pictures, seeing how beautiful we are, seeing how lively we are, seeing how real we are and how much we are connected, was a wonderful way to spend our time honoring Bob Nesta Marley. Laughing, singing (badly), dancing, and being with each other. Just us girls . . .

That's nobody's business but my own

2008-07-23T14:13:00.003-04:00

This is a picture taken of Billie Holiday during her last recording session. She died within the year. I hate this picture. It should not have been taken. This photo has a rubber-necking, intrusiveness quality of a horrible event at which we shouldn't be gawking. I would much rather remember her singing and strong and whole. In this picture she seems broken. There is another reason I hate this picture. In her hand she is holding a glass. In the glass is vodka and lime. Anyone who knows me knows what I drink: vodka and lime on the rocks. Billie and I had similar tastes in alcohol. And even though I know that Billie Holiday was a long time heroin user, this picture still scares me to death.

My grandmother was a long time heroin user. With the exception of my mother, all of her children are or have been addicted to cocaine or alcohol or prescription pills. Food and shopping are my mother's drugs of choice. On my father's side of the family, he has nieces who have been addicted to alcohol. My sister is a very heavy drinker. She drinks daily and many times been drunk to the point of amnesia. I am a very heavy drinker.

I drink alot. If you were to ask my friends to describe me, they would probably mention how much I drink. But when folks talk about how much I drink, it is never in a pitiful, sad, "oh she has a problem" sense. It is always in awe. Like drinking is one of the qualities that they would aspire to have. I too am proud of my drinking capabilities. I can drink alot, no throwing up. Only my best friend and maybe my brother can tell when I'm drunk. I hold it together amazingly well. I have a very high tolerance. I am never drunk in public. The only way I can tell when I've drank too much is the next day if I wake up with a hangover. I never drink while my children are awake. Part of this control that I have over drinking is what scares me. The question becomes, How or when does a person know when they have a problem with alcohol?" Billie Holiday was a heroin addict. She drank on the day that photo was taken because she said it would help her voice. It didn't. Some say asking the question lets you know that you may have a problem. I'm not so sure. I know at one point I was drinking daily. I no longer do that. I do not drink when I'm sad. I just don't feel like it. I attribute drinking with partying and happiness.

I did until a few nights ago when I was lonely and depressed and no one was around. I really had the urge to drink. In my mind, just to have something to do. When I saw there was nothing in the freezer, it made me even sadder. When I felt the sadness wave over me about the lack of vodka, the fear crept it. I couldn't believe I was almost in tears because there was no alcohol in the house. That scares me to death. I am very grateful in hindsight there was no alcohol in that freezer. So even though I feel I have control over my drinking, there is a quality to it that is obsessive. One of the reasons I have never tried any other drug is because of that obsessive part of my personality. I don't think I could stop. I wonder if Billie Holiday thought she had control?

I have these arbitrary rules that I have about drinking alcohol. Not when children are awake, not when pregnant, not after 10 when I have to go to work the next day (unless I am out dancing, then all bets are off). The most important rule, not if it hurts someone else. Billie Holiday said, "I don't hurt nobody but myself, and that's nobody's business but my own." Well said. Self destruction can make a philosopher out of anyone.

Who's That Girl? more like the eurythmics, not madonna

2008-07-22T19:21:00.000-04:00

I am a cinnamon brown, dred loc’d girl. I am ashamed that I began my about me talking about how I look. But while I’m on the subject . . .I am bespectacled (I wear glasses) never contacts. I remain Clark Kent. I am tallish (for a girl) I am waaay too old to refer to myself as a girl. Even though I’m one of those “natural chicks” I love tv, I can’t stop eating red meat for more than 4 months at a time, and I eat very few vegetables. I know it’s bad for me, but I have very little self control. I love words. I love how the right words can evoke feelings. I love poetry. I despise bad poetry. I love spoken word. I abhor spoken word done poorly. I love to write. I love to write. It is cheaper than therapy. I write to figure it all out and to hope others can find some truth in it to reaffirm I am not the alien that I fear myself to be.

I am writing a book. I have a poor attention span so I am worried that my novel will remain unwritten. I tend to daydream. I was thinking about getting evaluated for ADD, but I’m afraid that with my new focus, my daydreams will disappear. I find people so strange and interesting. I love talking to people and figuring out what they’re all about. Which is why I love myspace and people watching. I make up stories about them. I look through what they want people to see and get to their reality or the reality I have daydreamed up. And more often than not reality and my dreamed up reality are one of the same or pretty darned similar. I don’t like cursing. I don’t like people to curse in conversations with me, when they don’t know me. However, after a few cocktails, I tend to curse like a sailor. That is when you can tell I’m drunk, the cursing and the country accent that appears. (which is altogether strange for a girl from jersey).

I married the first man who said he loved me. I am also divorcing him. Lesson learned. I have two sons. They are beautiful and funny. Some people (including myself) think I’m funny. I like to make people laugh. Unfortunately, sometimes that keeps people from taking me seriously. And I am very serious. Some people are offended by the things I say. I say things impulsively sometimes without thinking of the ramifications. However, people shouldn’t be offended. Grow some thicker skin, really.

Hmm, what else. Yes, I love Jesus. I am his favorite. He answers my prayers (although I’m not always crazy about the answers). This is where I get my confidence, my fearlessness. I am still growing in my knowledge of what all that means. I continue to be weak in ways that are not good for me, so I am grateful for God’s grace. Ummm, I love That Girl by Stevie Wonder, I love Holly Golightly, Rear Window, Claudine, dancehall, and vodka, vodka, and vodka again. That is all, over and out.