127 posts tagged “life”
The semester is coming to a close and I feel like I'm loosing it. I know... what happened to the tranquil crash I just experience over the past few days during Thanksgiving? I hate to admit this to myself, but I saw this coming. My heart was in the right place to work on projects and assignments during the break, but my body nor my brain would allow me. So I pushed myself all day Monday to complete what needed to be done by Tuesday...leaving me to complete what needs to be done by tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Last day of classes as well as the launch date for the magazine. I'm helter skelter right now. Trying to gain balance.. and failing. Either STILL too tired to be organized enough to accomplish things in a timely manner or I'm subconsciously procrastinating. I literally said the other day.. I'm tired of thinking intellectually. I need to just be dumb for a few days to give my brain a rest.
What's odd is I've NEVER been an emotional eater. Normally when I'm this stressed, or a bit lost about something my stomach is too tied in knots to eat. If I even try to eat it will barely stay down. I have to force myself to get it down or else.... a pukey mess. However, this time it's different. I feel myself eating just as I'm thinking of a game plan or strategy on how to attack the assignment at hand. Maybe it's in part because there are hearty Thanksgiving leftovers in the fridge along with a rich deep dark chocolate layered cake I made. I do feel "it's that time" as well since I've been eating up the chocolate in the house. Nevertheless, I'm paying for all the chocolate intake via the acne appearing on my face now - yeah I breakout when I over indulge with the chocolate.
Besides the final exams coming up in another week, the final papers I have due soon and even the launch of the magazine, I have another added stress. For the past fews weeks I've in talks with a popular local paper for an internship position. Things seemed to be rolling along ok, but I'm left anxious as I await their final decision. I first spoke with the publisher who seemed to be impressed with my cover letter and resume. Though she thought I would be a good fit for the position, she turned me over to the assistant managing editor. I met with the editor a few weeks later and at the time I thought we got off to a good start. Yet, part of my nervousness now is as I reflect I wonder if I was too comfortable during the quasi-formal (informal?) interview and a bit too familiar. *big sigh*
Still I walked away from the interview with a mission to do. The editor wanted me to audition (sorta speak) by having me come up with a topic to write about for one of their blogs and write up the story/blog. I did the story, plus took pictures. I submitted everything on Thanksgiving Eve. Last night I sent a follow up email to inquire about the status of my submission and their final decision. I received a response thanking me for my submission and that they were still interviewing other candidates.
So I wait.
Bite my nails, take a hit of the chocolate cake, stumble over words in my academic papers, bite my nails some more, take shot of cornbread and sausage stuffing, bit my nails, sleep, wake up to work on papers, say a prayer or two.. then a few.
It's mine.
It's a struggle to get these thoughts out. I convinced myself I needed to write to get me going again. Since Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, I've been feeling as if I've been in a daze. As if my body and mind has reached it's highest level of excitement and activity that it can't do anymore...at least not at this time. Still I have four more papers to complete before the close the of the semester, plus some editing and writing duties for the publication that is officially launching.. err ummm this week!!! (EEK!)
I didn't realize how busy and how truly drained I have been since August. From writing two to three papers just about every week, to writing creatively for Medina's class and even throwing in some journalism duties PLUS coming home to take care of whatever issues there, I should be half out my mind. Still I'm in tact. A long time ago this would have drowned me. I would have given in to defeat and sat on the sidelines, again prolonging my "college career." But a force stronger than me has kept me afloat. I've just lived up to my end as far as the work goes.
This year I didn't formulate any real thoughts on Thanksgiving. I was just thankful for the second year in a row that the "Ides of November" wasn't looming - death, depression, sickness, over blown drama - and I was able to spend Thanksgiving with the ones I love. The day after met me with an incredible body crash. I managed to get up early with the Snickerdoodle and give her breakfast and watch her favorite shows with her. However, for the most part I stayed on the couch with one eye on the Snickerdoodle as she played and another trying to talk me into a full fledge sleep. Stayed away from my computer and for the most part my Blackberry; though I did send and received a couple of text messages. I did get a couple of cat naps in, but once the Snickerdoodle was in bed for the night, I wasn't far behind.
I slept a deep, dreamless sleep. The best.
Saturday met me with such energy. I knew I still had work to complete, but the computer just didn't appeal to me. I didn't fret over it at all. I spent the day helping my father dig out Christmas decorations and few other items from the storage shed. I did find a few goodies that once belonged to me as a kid that I'm now giving to the Snickerdoodle.
So this red chair was wrapped up and towards the back of the storage shed. Apparently my grandfather gave this to me when I was about 2 or 3 years old. Of course I looked it and said the Snickerdoodle had to have this. She saw it and couldn't wait to sit in it.
Then there was my "Dressy Bessy" doll; the doll that helps you understand how to zip, button, snap and tie. I think this was my favorite find for the Snickerdoodle. After I gave Bessy a good spin around the washing machine, to brighten her up, the Snickerdoodle hasn't been able to put her down. She loves this, which is a bit of shock to me. Usually the Snickerdoodle doesn't play with dolls at her. She's more for toys with actions and that makes noise. Then again, with Bessy there is action as you zip, snap, tie and button.
By the end of the day I was tired. My whole body ached. Energy was gone. I took a bubble bath and headed straight for the bed. I was nearing my deep sleep when the Snickerdoodle awoke in the middle of the night. For whatever reason she wasn't trying to go back to sleep. She wasn't ill, but I knew she too was tired having a long day playing outside. Still she fought sleep and made space in my bed for her, her blankie, and Bessy. I made several attempts for her to go back to sleep, but none was working.
Soooooo.
We had an impromptu slumber party as we watched a couple of movies on OnDemand Shrek and Sesame Street's Follow That Bird (a classic from my generation when I was like... 5) The Snickerdoodle stayed up and watched both movies and still fought to go back to sleep. Nevertheless by 4:30 am she was too tired to fight and my body felt like it wanted to slap the crap out of me for not sleeping. Once I knew for sure the Snickerdoodle was sleep (in her own bed), I collapsed back into my bed, falling into a deep repose until the house phone rang around 8 am. Then my cell phone rang no later than that.
I hit ignore for both calls and went back to sleep.
My body and mind had grown just that tired. Even now.. as it's only inching towards 3:30 in the afternoon, my bed seems to be calling. Just one more day of sleep and I'll be ready to finish out the last week of classes and the next week of a final exam, plus the last two papers that are due.
Within the past few weeks, Medina has been pressing the class to go deeper with our writing. The first couple assignments were reactions pieces or poems/prose we were to construct based on artwork by an African-American artist we individually choose. There was an "I Am From..." assignment where we have to look within and create a piece illustrating where we are from and then there was the one due today; the soundtrack of your life.
When the "soundtrack" assignment was given, immediately I thought back to the tag line I created for my blog years ago.
"A Melody In Search of a Lyric."
How convenient this would come to mind? At the first opportunity I got I wrote down: I'm a melody. Everyone that enters my life one way or another is a lyric...creating a neverending bittersweet symphony.
The whole weekend I pondered over it more. Eventually last evening I sat down and began listening to music. Somehow Alicia Keys' latest single "Doesn't Mean Anything," struck a cord that caused my thoughts to flow. I began writing. What I ended up with I presented in class.
In Search Of….
By: Mahoganie Jade Browne
A melody in search of a lyric.
Deaf to the harmony already rumbling in the background.
Blind to the words facing her.
A Bittersweet Symphony she was escaping.
“We got your sex and your violence. Melody and Silence.”
Being a Soulful Moaner, she wailed.
Most times out of a lustful fit that soothe the pain.
Other times out of the need to be.
Always looking to others to write her song; from Donnie crooning on about A Song For… “Her” to taking on the Shapeshifter’s Theme to Lola and rewriting it Blackveleteen’s Theme knocking off Lenny.
It’s just as Springsteen and Manfred Mann’s Band said, she was Blinded By The Light.
A melody in search of a lyric.
Stumbling onto a blank score.
Unknowingly setting the time signature to a never ending composition.
From six-eight to four-four.
From the blue note to the highest praise pitch.
Perhaps rococo
Never a strophic.
Vivid rhythms conjuring faces.
Attracted to the distinct flow.
Co-writing the symphony of her life.
The room fell silent for a minute and then heads nodded in agreement. I could tell everything was thinking, but didn't know what to say. Medina cut the silence by asking me to read it backwards.....
Co-writing the symphony of her life.
Attracted to the distinct flow.
Vivid rhythms conjuring faces.
Never a strophic.
Perhaps rococo
From the blue note to the highest praise pitch.
From six-eight to four-four.
Unknowingly setting the time signature to a never ending composition.
Stumbling onto a blank score.
A melody in search of a lyric.
It’s just as Springsteen and Manfred Mann’s Band said, she was Blinded By The Light.
Always looking to others to write her song; from Donnie crooning on about A Song For… “Her” to taking on the Shapeshifter’s Theme to Lola and rewriting it Blackveleteen’s Theme knocking off Lenny.
Other times out of the need to be.
Most times out of a lustful fit that soothe the pain.
Being a Soulful Moaner, she wailed.
“We got your sex and your violence. Melody and Silence.”
A Bittersweet Symphony she was escaping.
Blind to the words facing her.
Deaf to the harmony already rumbling in the background.
A melody in search of a lyric.
Almost in unison the class let out whispers of excitement and approval. Even I couldn't hide the fact that the words were more like me... a bit abstract, yet a bit transparent. A living metaphor.
It took everything within me not to cry in their presence. My life.. plain as day...
One of the hardest lessons that I've learned - and still reminding myself of - is that I'm worth it.
It's been on my heart and mind to sit down and talk with my aunt. I love my aunt, even in the midst of her flaws. After all, who am I to judge. Yet, it saddens me that at her age (she's edging closer to 50) somewhere deep down she doesn't feel like she is worth it. Granted, it's not my job to "fix it," but Lord knows I wish I could. I wish I could open her eyes to a lot of things about her self worth. Ironically, some of it is partly what she has inspired on me or shown me.
My own lessons of self worth developed before I had my daughter. I attracted quasi-decent guys; meaning I always looked at their social status, figured in how they would "complete" me (sorta speak) while carrying the "independent woman" sign with the disclaimer "I just want someone to love and be loved in return." Just when I had over extended myself by doing everything for them but jump through a hoop of fire baring a neon sign that says "pick me! I'm the one.." a disconnect would occur. Most of the time I was glutton for punishment and kept trying to force a connection when it was obvious it wasn't even a dial tone on the line.
Since becoming a mom it just seems like the wool has been pulled off my eyes and I see a lot of BS that floats around when it comes to people and relationships. I'm not claiming expert status. Far from that, but just the basic level of obvious bull - who really has time for that? Not I. Still what would it take for my aunt and so many other grown women to see the obvious and not accept it?
I wanna talk now, but things are hot....tense. She won't listen. I need a time to catch her off gaurd. So she has nowhere to hide to and no choice but to listen. Yes, it's time for the aunt to listen to the niece for a change.
All this over a man, that isn't trustworthy and has caused more harm to the FAMILY than good.
Friday Night.
Georgetown...
Opening Night for Foto Week DC. Drinks pouring. Beautiful people around. Me and Kel conversing and bumping to the ecclectic mellow mix of house music. Tasty spread of hor'dorves. Floating from one gallery to the next. Photography on display at five different galleries. New York, Cuba, Uganda, AIDS, 9/11, DC school children, the normal, the interesting. Topics are soft to intense. Chocolate doorman on gaurd. Looking to be Secret Service. Our eyes lock. Smiles exchanged. Ahhhh. I'm taken. Night fall air. I'm without much care. Celebrating Kel's job offer from earlier in the day. Me? Celebrating life and perhaps the realization graduation is closely becoming a reality.
Unknown hours pass. We have to keep it moving.
Adams Morgan...
Posted up at Soussi. Mediterranean feel. Added company. An Andre 3000 twin. Glasses, Suit, criss cross red and white strip shirt. Tie. Socialite, business man, fellow Bison. Good friend of Kel. Old School Hip Hop. Whatcha know about Lords of the Underground? Camp Lo? Tribe Called Quest? Martinis flowing. Paella tasting great. Black, White, Mediterranean, etc. taking hits from choosen hookah. Conversing about politics, current personal biz, straight up business. Pass the business cards to him, him and her. Another epic center or nerve where the bohemians of all backgrounds collab.
Again, unknown hours pass. We have to close tab and keep it moving.
The Triangle...
Andre 3000 Twin leads us to a mini after party. His connects is with Ozios. Club shuts down at 2 am, but a core group of Ethiopians still partying, including the connect. Someone got engaged. Champange flowing. Dancing in full effect. White guy comes over. Introduces himself. Said that he noticed Kel and I come in and thought we were the sexiest ones in the place. A line? Yes. Still, all he wanted was a dance. How could I refuse?
Unknown time passes. We shut it down.
Benning Ridge...
Home. Lured to sleep by the sounds of Papi's voice who called to make sure I got home ok.
"...a very caring and loving person who is afraid of her own feelings."
When I first read that message I took a deep breath. The message was left anonymously via the Honesty Box on my Facebook page. The honesty box allows people to secretly answer whatever question is posed; even though you can bribe them with virtual points in order to uncover their identity. I respond to answers given, but never bribe. I can pretty much can tell who said what, based on the types of answers given.
My current question really isn't one. It' just a simple statement.
"Enlighten me: tell me something you think I should know."
I have a feeling Papi left such an answer. He denied it, but all evidence points to him. Though things are going well between us, I still feel apprehensive emotionally. He knows that I care, but when I start feeling deep, I mean diving real deep into my feelings I hold back....A LOT. Defenses are up and the little jokes served with nervous laughter come out.
I'm not sure what it is I'm actually protecting. I'm pretty much over my bad experiences. My war wounds from my last (so-called) relationship have closed up and are slowly smoothing over. Yet, why do I keep getting reminders, such as the message and the one I've been saying since seeing the message?
Reminder to self: It's ok to feel.
Maybe I'm still leaving that marginal room for error when this three year relationship proves to be not so perfect or just totally wrong. My fear of being presumptuous. Whatever it is, I'm so wide open. I want to run and hide, out of shame and maybe even fear. Yet, I don't hide. I stand there in the middle, in the open, stammering over what to say. When my heart gets too full, I don't express. Choosing instead to change the topic, tell a joke or retreat as if I didn't hear what was said before. I can't get away with it 95 percent of the time. That other 5 percent is when I can't deal and he just can't get it out of me. He doesn't push. Let's me be.
I want to share EVERYTHING that I feel, but stifled and saddened that I don't....
Maybe I'm just waiting for the right day.. the right time...that exactly "ah ha moment" when I know for sure... to say.... I love you.
I'm in an artistic mood but not sure where to start. Ok... maybe I have an idea. I'm working on a creative writing project for my class with Medina. It's our Mid-term. The project is to take about 20 shots (pictures) and create a narrative from the pictures taken. I had so many ideas for this project, but each one foiled. Mainly I wanted to shoot pictures of my grandmother's move. Her life has been my muse lately. Unfortunately, the house she is moving to isn't quite ready yet. The move is postponed.
I pulled out my old (late 80's) Nikon 35mm. Not an automatic, but the professional kind. Back in the day I use to take shots, mainly in black and white, and developed the prints myself. I dabbled in and out of it as I attended different workshops and even on my own. I even went back into it in high school as I spent one school year taking pictures for the yearbook. I looooove that Nikon better than any digital. For that I'm truly an "Analog Girl In a Digital World."
When my original idea foiled I pondered the idea of another upcoming event. My cousin "T's" fashion line debut. She held a private fashion show and party at the Studio Gallery in Dupont Circle, with invited family, guests and few press folks. It was a hit!! I have never been so proud of my cousin as I was Saturday. Literally, I was moved to tears (which I choked back - I couldn't let my eye makeup give me away).
I managed to take much needed black and white shots and had them developed the next day. I'm shocked how interesting and nice they turned out; considering I'm still an amature at this and hadn't touched the Nikon in light years. I'm not even gonna get into how it took me a moment or two to figure out how to load the camera. Once I finished a roll I had to remember where the release button was located to allow me to roll the film back in the film canister before opening the back. After one wasted roll of film, a few out of focus pictures and a few pictures with off balance lighting, I forgot how the whole process gives me a rush! I went out and bought more black and white film for more pictures to take - for my own leisure, projects.
Aside from the picture taking A LOT has been placed on my plate and I'm still trying to find a balance in all of the madness. On one hand I love it, because I'm immersing myself in work that I love doing, but the flip side is.. trying my damn hardest not to succomb to my distractions and not neglecting those in my life who are very important and dear to me. Of course the biggest one of all...my daughter.
I probably shouldn't worry too much about my Snickerdoodle, since she is in good hands while I'm drowning in reading material for classes, writing papers, writing and editing articles and whatever else I have going on. I get a sense that at two years old, my Snickerdoodle has some of my streak of independence. On one hand she's attached to me -she'll crawl in my bed in the middle of the night. However, she is quick to tell me "Buh Bye" - such as Sunday in church when I dropped her off in the in the children's Sunday school and she told me "bye" before I could rush back upstairs to the sanctuary.
So again.. I need not worry too much about the Snickerdoodle.
But getting back to this artistic aura that has been around me lately.... It's funny. I had been crying about lack of inspiration and motivation and in the last month or so an abundance of what I've been lacking and crying out for has hit me.
A couple of weeks ago Medina asked us to write a Creed, based on why do we write. I took some time to think about why do I write and tried to form it into a creed. Here's what I came up with.
"There's the gift, there's the spirit & there's the work. All three have to come together. If one of those things are off, it can stop you from becoming who you were meant to be" - Jay-Z Oct. 2009 issue of O Magazine
The Gift:
For it was bestowed upon me to carry a tradition. It’s by divine touch to have such a legacy flow through the blood line; from grandparents to grandchildren. This inheritance is rich with vivid imagery, a plush vocabulary and a background harmony singing lullabies helping to see and feel. For the mission is bigger than me and beyond my understanding. For the words entertain, heal, soothe, inspire, liberate, anger, teach, help and captivate. The art of writing is one of power. I shall not take this lightly journalistically or creatively.
The Spirit:
The spirits of pure and evil are there. Yet it’s the pure that I seek and long to keep. For evil uses my voice, the gift, as a weapon sharper than any known to man. For I pray and pledge not to be led astray, to find friend or foe slain or arrested by my hidden weapon. May nothing but positive influence and true conviction bleed ink.
The Work:
It is understood that nothing is handed to me freely and without consequence. For I have received this gift and must make use of idle hands and idle time. For it takes more than just having the gift and letting the passion fester. Passion must be allowed to be the driver. For once it is allowed to drive falling in love with the craft and the tools are comprehensive. The work will deliver unto itself when passion is allowed to live aloud and able to drive.
My spiritual journey has been one of highs and lows. Perhaps the reason it hasn't been a constant plane is out of my own stubborn and controlling ways to which I haven't given up my full trust and completely rely on my faith. There have been moments when I have just released myself, but more likely only after hitting rock bottom or out of my own hard headedness God has brought forth huge road blocks or signs to get my attention.
In regards to my writing, it has become evident and I'll admit, I haven't been using it to my full potential. Some time ago I realized I didn't want to be writing just for the sake of it; creative or journalism wise. I always wanted to use this gift for the benefit of the greater good. I believe it's time to "put the money where my mouth is" sorta speak. Since returning to school, I challenged myself to be a bit more disciplined in my journalism studies, regular studies and even in my creative writing. Last semester, through the rigorous finale of my journalism courses I stuck it out and saw the fruits of my labor. Not monetary wise, but in the satisfied looks and comments from my sources that I interviewed, my professor(s), my peers and myself.
Last semester knocked the wind out of me and I spent much of the summer on cruise control. While I did produced a few more [freelance] articles, I felt spent and needed to breathe for a moment. Maybe a moment too long, because by the start this semester I found myself hitting the ground running in finishing up these last courses for my minor - African American Studies - before being declared a graduate. However, not before the end of the summer one of my journalism professors [an editor of a major magazine] tapped me to join in on a [paid] project; launching a national publication that will be operated by and through the school. Of course I jumped on board, but only to feel a little lost over the summer in my duties, since we're starting from the ground up.
As school started two weeks ago, I met with the professor and another young lady on board for the project. We hashed out our ideas, discussed the foundation that started forming before the end of last semester and the next phase of moving things through. After the meeting I felt so energized and excited, but even still I have slacked [not intentionally] in getting my part done at the moment. My semester is chock-full of writing and reading. Not to mention, coming home to a two-year-old that loves your attention after haven't seen you all day long on two days of the week and half a day on the rest of the days. So I'm struggling a bit in finding a balance. Right now my brain feels a bit helter skelter.
Even in the midst of this, another call has been extended to me. God via my pastor is calling. Many moons ago - well maybe not that long ago - I worked on the "newsletter ministry" at my church. My pastor caught wind that I was in school for journalism and thought it would be a good idea for me to serve as editor of the newsletter. At the time I was only 20 and worked with a team of folks that were much older than me. In the end, some folks had issues with my decisions about certain things and though I tried to work with them it got nasty. Like - I'm sending you an email and CCing the pastor nasty. So I quit the ministry and the newsletter was defunct for a while. It was revived again sometime later but didn't last long.
Since the time I quit my mother has been on me about reviving the newsletter for the church. So nearly three weeks ago when she told me the pastor wanted me to call him about the newsletter, I thought it was another ploy my mother was pulling to make her thoughts known. Just in case, I did call the pastor, but not immediately though; try three days later. I know.. bad.
Nevertheless, I was faced with his voicemail inbox, so I left a message. A couple of days later my mother asked had I called. I told her I did and left a message. Her voice was laced with an urgent tone as she scrolled through her blackberry to pull up the pastor's cell number.
"He REALLY wants you on this. Call his cell. Don't call the church."
Without protest my mother's Blackberry was pressed up against my ear as my pastor's phone rang once and went to yet another voicemail greeting. I left another message. As that week's Sunday came upon me, I went to church. I went up for alter call and the pastor spotted me, leaned into me and pretty much affirmed that he did need to speak with me when I had a moment. The end of church was hectic with people all around and my daughter getting a bit fussy because it was near lunchtime. So I left before having the needed conversation with my pastor.
Today after church I went up to speak with pastor. Ironically today's sermon was about discipleship and going forth to spread/teach the word and message of God via however you are lead to do so, or moreso using the gifts/resources/talents/calling that God has bestowed upon you. I had already made up my mind that reviving the newsletter would have to wait until January, when I'm done with school for good. I mentioned this to my pastor today. He had a slight disappointed look, but then told me he was hoping to see something around November, but if he had to wait until January he would, because he didn't want to interrupt my school-work. I told him I would see what I could do. Just before I bid him a good rest of the day, he turned to me and told me that he really wanted me to work on this for the church.
So many times I hear talk about being obedient to the word... being obedient to God period. Part of me believes this isn't some random coincidence that projects are coming my way and even something pertaining to my church home. I do believe it's all about helping me further grow in this realm of writing and even as a person. However, when it came to my church I've been wrestling for the longest about feeling out of place. My church is the same church I grew up in. My parents were married there, I was dedicated and baptized there. I sang in the choir, been on many retreats, fellowshipped in many ways with my extended family - my church family. Still, at some point of my adult life I felt out of sorts or out of place and lost as times were changing inside the church and even with me.
My current spiritual journey has been one of baby steps, prayer and me trying to be disciplined with a lot of things. Which is why the other part of me is still the fearful me; me fearing failure - the insecure me that still creeps up. Now that I know in the past I wasn't [fully] ready with some of my journalistic/creative endeavors, I'm nervous. Unsure if this time I'm ready. Deep down I feel that I'm ready, but on the surface I still feel like such a novice.
A couple months ago I posted a status on Facebook mentioning how I felt like such a novice. It generated a few comments, one in particular came from Brandon.
"You're not a novice, but at the same time, you're always learning. When you get to a point where you think you know everything, that's when you don't flourish."
I feel it's time to flourish. So I guess it's time to be obedient. Learn through trial and error. After all, that's the only way to grow. Now if I can only completely kick these insecurities and fears of succeeding out of my life. *umph*
Something feels funny in my world, but I can't put my finger on it.
Each day I over the mouse over my personal blog and then the newest one I'm keeping just for writing. Each day I hover near those sites, because a thought hits me and I feel as if I need to share. Somehow I manage to always get sidetracked with the writing blog.So great topics have arose or have been brought to my attention. However, either I can't sit still long enough to focus and write a thought out entry, or as with something more recent I look for ways to make it to a full fledge article to pitch.
My personal blog(s) are a different story. Normally I only rush to share when something earth shattering happens or when drama is around. Yet lately neither of those is the case. I don't feel as compelled to write in them anymore.
The only thing close to earth shattering is what took place this past Sunday. I ran into someone from the past. The one who perhaps I was his favorite memory; based on the last conversation(s) we had nearly three years ago. Even still, the encounter wasn't anything to write home about. I didn't see stars and my tongue wasn't hanging out as if panting while hanging onto his every word. Though friendly, cordial and carrying a few smiles I really shooed him away by cutting the conversation short. Nothing was appealing. Even though he still had the teddy bear build that use to pull me in, I wanted to flee. He ooozed of bull shit and I didn't have time. He read my body language as I hurried around the car, rushing to take the Snickerdoodle to a birthday party that we were already an hour late for. I was able to leave and move forward with my day in peace.
I shared the ordeal with Papi as we've been comparing notes lately. People from his past have been popping up too. It's funny, but it never fails. Everytime you acknowledge that you are in a relationship, people from the past pop up on cue as if to say "Hey I'm here to screw with your happiness." The refreshing thing is, Papi and I talk about our past and current feelings when we compare these notes on our "ghosts" or "critters" as he likes to call them. The interesting thing is our insecurities don't even come in the picture as we talk about these things. I think we just like to sit and analyze each other's past friend/relationships and figure out if we're carrying anything over from them into what we have going.
Aside from the encounter, I did have a couple of perculiar dreams. One of which included another former friend's feet in slingback (shoes) but her heels being ashy. Interesting enough, in the dream I felt myself trying to dodge her because I wanted to avoid eye contact. When I finally see her, I immediately notice her feet; in the slingbacks and with ashy heels. Eventually I notice her stare as she looks at me. Then I wake up.
I read somewhere where dreams like to play on words. For one, the immediate symbol of feet is freedom, liberation, mobility, but the condition of the feet, especially the soles (which can be a pun of some sort for soul), is another story. Every symbol I've looked up for feet has told me all the degrees and theorems for the condition of feet. However, nothing on feet with ashy heels. Since the heel is pretty much part of the sole, I can only conclude there is something in my soul, or in the former friend's soul that isn't completely smooth when it comes to us. Maybe it has something to do with my encounter on Sunday, since I had the dream two days prior, and how I pretty much dimissed dude without a second thought.
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So in the midst of writing this I've received the biggest news ever! My two old best friends from elementary/jr. high are pregnant at the same time and are DUE around the same time. I'm gushing with glee it's bananas. "K" announced hers yesterday and today "Nik" made her announcement. I just got off the phone with Nik and boy did we catch up. Long over due, since the last time we spoke/hung out was during our sophomore year in college. "K" and I have been communicating back and forth via Twitter. I need to plan a reunion of some sort. I miss those "girls."
In talking with Nik tonight I feel kind of bad that I wasn't there for her during her "lost" times. Then again, during the time she was going through her drama I was going through my own. What help would I have been then? Still this was my girl. Her, K and myself were tight growing up. It was nothing (back then) to give up the last whatever or do whatever for the other(s).
As we've been reconnecting through technological advances, it has been interesting to see how we turned out in our adult lives. Though I'm not trying to relive the days of yester-years, I love how something in the present seems to slowly gel us together. For the most part I'll always believe we'll have our connection - for as many times as we hung out at each other's houses and blended with each other's families. Yet, our time a part has made things seem refreshing....
It's refreshing that we are reconnecting and getting to know one another (as adults) again.
Actually it's a beautiful thing.
Perhaps there has been a shift in my world and I'm just coasting along........
It's safe to say that I, like millions of others, find myself in shock and speechless about yesterday's passing of Michael Jackson. What's crazy is I use to "fear" this day. Meaning, I use to wonder what the WORLD would do in reaction to the news of a Michael Jackson death. I seriously use to wonder about this as a kid. I suspect that Michael Jackson's funeral (at least memorial service) will be very public and world wide. I wouldn't even be surprised if he received some kind of "state" funeral (or something like it) with accolades galore."
I'm an 80's baby. So I never got to experience "Little Michael" say like someone in my aunt's generation, who use to play her Jackson 5 albums to death; especially the song "ABC." When I came on the scene it was merely on the heels of his "Off the Wall" album and "Thriller" was not long behind. The rest [as they say] is HIStory. Fortunately I grew up in the era of Michael's "glory" days, when he was solidfied and a bonifide pop icon. So I feel rightful in standing in line with millions of others and make the claim I grew up with and on Michael Jackson. Though I never been to a Michael Jackson concert, I have the video footage from documentaries and such on his life that show the crying and overwhelmed fans passing out and being carried out at the shows. It WAS that deep...at least for them.
Obviously, I didn't know Michael personally or any of the Jacksons for that matter, but still my heart has been feeling kind of heavy. This week has caught me off gaurd completely, but it's more than Michael's death and even the deaths of TV personality Ed McMahon who passed earlier this week and actress Farrah Fawcett who passed hours earlier before Michael after a long fight with anal cancer. Maybe what rattled me this week was the unbelievable and indescribable local news (that went national) of the two red line metro transit trains that collided. Dozens were injured and nine people parished; two included a retired general and his wife my father knew from The Gaurd. Maybe what really did it was news of my next door neighbor, who was entering his home and was jumped on by some teens and pistol whipped in an attempted robbery the other night, while I've been in the house alone with my 2 year old for nearly two weeks now.
Nevertheless, in wake of the recent events, I can't help but feel reminded and faced dead on with the reality of immortality. On the day of the train accident, a fellow school-mate of mine (who is in his early 20's) updated his Facebook status to say he was on one of the trains in the accident, but wasn't injured, just in shock. Someone responded to his comment with "it wasn't your time." Yesterday I thought to how Farah Fawcett was determined to beat her cancer and looked forward to a victory of living cancer free. Her plans took her as far as Germany where she met and had a team of doctors working with her on the latest treaments unknown or unauthorized in The States. Then I thought how Michael Jackson came out this passed March to proclaim his final curtain call will be concluding with a series of concerts given in London scheduled for this coming July. How odd is it that Michael Jackson and the unsuspecting folks in the Metro accident made their own plans - like the 23 year-old mother and owner of a beauty salon leaving work and was on the train in route planning to pick up her kids - but God had another plan....
That seems to be the nature of human beings, always planning and strategizing in an effort to control our life. Yet something more powerful than us is in control and sadly it always takes something so catastrophic, such as the trifecta of death, to point this out.
Curious to know other thoughts concerning Michael's death, I did something I haven't done in months. I looked up a former friend's blog as she has been documenting her Christian/spiritual journey. I was curious to know her spin on this and to see another Christian's perspective on the recent nationalized deaths of three celebrities and the nine local, everyday people who were lost in the train wreck (especially, since she rides that exact line and route to and from work). Nothing posted on current events, but instead I stumbled upont her entry "At a Crossroads," where she breaks down four different roads people take in life.
1. The Yellow Brick Road: where she states the obvious of how people who have "made it" or reached a level of success and think it's all God, but really it's a faux life. Meaning, people who reach this status have all the materialistic gains of such a life, but there is still a void, because God isn't fully (if at all) in their lives. She qoutes Psalm 14:12 (NIV) - "There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to destruction."
2. The Road to Nowhere: here she breaks down how this describes people who are stuck right at the their crossroads in life. Instead of making a move they sit and spectate and acutally maybe comfortable in during so. She quotes: Leviticus 26: 13-20 (NIV) - "I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt so that you would no longer be slaves to the Egyptians; I broke the bars of your yoke and enabled you to walk with heads held high.
'But if you will not listen to me and carry out all these commands, and if you reject my decrees and abhor my laws and fail to carry out all my commands and so violate my covenant, then I will do this to you: I will bring upon you sudden terror, wasting diseases and fever that will destroy your sight and drain away your life. You will plant seed in vain, because your enemies will eat it. I will set my face against you so that you will be defeated by your enemies; those who hate you will rule over you, and you will flee even when no one is pursuing you. "
'If after all this you will not listen to me, I will punish you for your sins seven times over. I will break down your stubborn pride and make the sky above you like iron and the ground beneath you like bronze. Your strength will be spent in vain, because your soil will not yield its crops, nor will the trees of the land yield their fruit."
3. The Road of Darkness: here she talks about the folks who basically get to their crossroads and walk backwards in their life journey. They may even reject the word of God; the "mentally and spiritually screwed up" as she refers to such individuals. She quotes Romans 1:28 (NIV) - "Furthermore, since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, he gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought not to be done. "
4. The Road to Enternal Life: basically this is the life in which God has you in His care, if you choose Him and this road. Ironically she quoted a verse that I have kept close to me ever since my Aunt VJ preached on it (the whole chapter) during her initial sermon a year ago - also the day after her (step) son's passing. It was such an emotional and bittersweet moment in my life. Deutoronomy 30:19 (NIV) - "I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that you and your descendants may live."
How surreal this keeps coming up in my life?
Recently I had the opportunity to interview a talented, business savy, indpendently produced singer for an online music publication. My conversation with her felt so reaffirmming and pretty much a testimony to what she has accomplished in her life and continues to do so.What's even more admirable is that she is working with TWO callings on her life, but has been blessed beyond words can imagine to connect the two and make it work; teaching students with special needs AND singing/performing. After my conversation with her and eventually writing up the article I found myself wishing to be something like her.. so confident and walking with that stride of I-may-look-as-if-I'm-in control-but-God-has-it.. totally. It was the same confidence I saw oozing from Ledisi a couple of weeks ago at the Carter Barron, when she proclaimed that she was "taking you to church in the juke joint." And she did... really. Granted I don't know these singers on a personal level, so I don't know all their struggles and dealings, but it's not hard to see when someone is oozing with that I-got-God confidence and REALLY have it.. I mean REALLY... you can FEEL IT!
I went back to a year ago to that March when Aunt VJ preached her sermon. This is what I had to say then:
Aunt VJ preached from the perspective of how folks can be the walking dead - living a life under the wrong spirit and allowing unnecessary suffering to enter. Choosing God allows life and light to come into your life and bring an unfounded peace. Life is different when you have divine peace. For me, her message actually coincided with my pastor's message from today - about unlikely candidates of being used/blessed by God. Earlier in the day I attended my own church and was hit with a reaffirming message that my life does have a purpose. Also, that pain is a part of life and the blessing in pain or hitting a deeper low is being built up. He used the analogy of tall buildings having a deeper foundation in order for it to be supported properly and able to withstand the strength it is built upon.
I would like the think the recent pains happening in my life - from dropping a friend, my grandmother's battle with depression and pre-dementia, becoming restless with this last stage of school, trying to remain sane and patient as a mother and a few other things - that a breaking point and a blessing is near, depending on me of course...if I choose to lean and stay with God. Why else would 2007 be the calm before the storm; even sending me WARNINGS via dreams about swimming and such. Then BAM! the latter part of 2008 and on into 2009 I'm right in the thick of things, shedding more skin, exposing all of me.. the good, bad and sometimes maybe the ugly. Cleansing. Swimming.
What's ironic is that part of the pain was loosing a connection to my former friend; so much so to the point where she stopped really caring and understanding because all she saw was "darkness" in me and I couldn't hack her sometimes true, but sometimes very off the mark observations about me. I think she wasn't ready, because she's never seen the worse of me, but I actually saw it coming. So I removed myself in hopes that it will give us a chance to both grow with God, but not together as a way of not to hinder since we're moving at a different pace. God is working on us differently.
I'm saying all of this to say that again my life has been jarred, but to the point where I don't want all that I do to be for the wrong reasons or even in vain. Going back to school, when I did, was RIGHT ON TIME. However, at the start of last semester I use to think it was the right time because it was my time (my plan of action), but as the semester moved forward I began to see it was the right time because it was God's time. I realized I wasn't ready to deal with the journalism/communications industry fully or to the point where I thought I was. The climate of the industry has changed dramatically with new media reporting coming in at a fast pace and being an all-in-one journalist is in high demand. It is only now that I'm finding out what I'm really made of and if this is one of the blessings or callings that God has for me or was this something that I planned on my life. Strangely, or maybe not so strange, moments ago I just received a phone call about participating in a project for next year to help set up a press conference. The grant and proposal was being written up as I spoke to the person working on the team. A bit nervous, but with excitement I said yes.
What's funny is that as much as I can't stand anyone with control issues, I have them too. I don't control others, but I try so damn hard to control my life. Honestly I should know better, especially given a few life events that I have been able to testify about where it wasn't me... it was God. This I know for sure.
Still, it's like the old saying "man makes plans and God laughs."
As for what I "wish" I had in regards to that confidence I witnessed a few days ago....
Ironic I stumbled about another proverb. I was digging in my laptop bag when I came across a slip of paper. It was a proverb another friend of mine would have at the bottom of his email as a signature. I liked it to much that I printed it out, cut the paper down to the quote and taped on my comuter at work when I was in the federal government.
It says, "Being happy doesn't mean everything's perfect; it just means you've decided to see beyond the imperfections"
Though I love this proverb and its message I would like to think God's plan is bit more than that. That his ultimate goal is that being happy has to do with Him and with him, everything is perfect because He is with us.. He resides within us. I believe this is confidence is in me, but has been dormant for a while, probably cause I choose to by letting life get to me instead of seeking and leaning on God - continuously.
My crossroad(s) are filled with the four points as outline by my former friend. Unfortunately I've traveled down two of the roads mentioned; The yellow brick road and the road to nowhere. I don't believe I've been down the road of darkness. Granted I've had my bouts with depression, but I've always sought God but what probably didn't help were the times when I added my on imput, my control of the situation. The road to enternal life.... I stare at it and have I really started walking on it? What's funny is as I think about it.. I also think back to one of my new favorite cable shows... Nurse Jackie.
In the opening episode, Jackie is going on via monologue about how nurses are seen as saints and throwing in a little philosophy and theology behind it - especially when people know the difference between right and wrong. One line jumped out at me as Jackie basically rationalizations she knows what's right, but may opt to do the wrong thing in the name of morals. Then she concludes with "don't make me right just yet God." The whole monologue was kind of deep. Granted the show is fictional, whose main character is addicted to pain killers and having an affair, but what's weird is that I sometimes feel like that. As if I know what's right, but for whatever reason I fear I sometimes find myself saying something along those lines... "don't make me right just yet God." As if God is suppose to wait on me and work on my time and schedule. Again, control.
I believe this is what 2009 has been about for me. Recognizing my control issues (among other things) and eventually letting it go. What's the biggest thing I need to let go and relenquish control of? My pride.
Pride is such a hard thing to let go, especially when you used it to survive (your way) for a very long time. I could probably write a book about how my pride has helped, hindered and hurt me and those around me. It's an old friend that seems to be in permanent residence, perhaps hindering me from walking that enternal life road.
Nevertheless... I'm working on it...
I've been keeping this close to me since I incorporated into something I wrote a year ago. I believe it's my favorite. My reminder of my constant and ever evolving being.
“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you." - Philippians 3:12 -15 NIV
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