45 posts tagged “writing”
The day is done. I'm phsyically tired, but I'm emotionally charged. Mentally... I'm 90% there.
Divine messages have once again interjected into my life. Perhaps in the most usual form, but I believe I got the memo.
I finally finished Jennifer Weiner's Certain Girls late last night. Again, my hats off to her for such an excellent work. I will admit it was in a bit of shock towards the end when she decided to write off a character. Honestly, I pretty much grieved last night with Cannie Shapiro, because like her, I too had grown accustom to the character that was killed off. The person was a permanent fixture in the fictional world of Cannie - so I thought.
Nevertheless, my revelation didn't come with the character's death as it served as an culminating event to the plot. It was more so Cannie's reclaiming herself in the aftermath of everything - her true purpose in life... her Divine purpose in life. What was it? Naturally it was to write. The calling was there ... been there... for Cannie to write something sincere from the heart. From her gut. Not out of anger as she did with the first novel that eventually caused her shame and made her hide under a psuedo. Though she was good at it (apparently) and found her comfort zone in writing under another name, it wasn't the REAL Cannie.
The way Weiner summed up Cannie's fears on writing again or just writing a book in general hit home for me. It was all about protecting the ones she loves in the midst of her own madness (true or made up) and releasing in order to let go..or maybe just coast along in a comfort zone. Yet deep within, because of whatever insecurities her real life's work or purpose in life was obscure of foggy.
This morning I arose with thoughts in my head on finishing my work/manuscript as I scrambled around prepping my daughter for her big day in church. She was dedicated today and for a time I felt as if I were going to cry. Actually I did most of my crying last night as I read through Joy's bat miztvah and her message and even made some comparisons of my own daughter's life. Like a bar/bat miztvah a dedication is very much indeed an important milestone. It's a process or MY commitment as a mother... a parent... to "offer" my child's life back to God. It's up to me to guide her through life and raise her in the light of God until she is old enough to say "Mother I want to fully commit to Him."
As I listened to my pastor's words today during the dedication and during the sermon (from which he preached on the widow in debt with her empty vessels and filled it with oil as Elisha instructed her to do and further told her to sell the oil in order to repay her debt - 2 Kings 4:1-11) the tears filled the corners of my eyes. Today, I was not only being charged with the duty of motherhood, but also my purpose. my writing...my oil.
Are my vessels (of life) empty?
I probably still have some cleaning to do, which is something that I may need to serious sit down think and pray on.
If anyone who reads my blog doesn't hear from me in a while.. don't worry... more than likely... I'm behind closed doors working with my oil to fulfill something that I do feel is calling me.
I have a story to tell... somebody's needs to hear it.
It's obvious. I got work to do.
My day has been a little off today. I didn't feel like venturing out. I've been a bit irritable. The contractors came by today to take some extra measurements, and all I wanted them to do was leave me alone in the process. My sister and her little women are in town, but I promised myself to meet up with them tomorrow. There is a family function tonight, but I didn't feel like going. I can easily blame my shut-in-ness on PMS, but really....I just hear Ron Isley crooning from afar in my head...
"I'm taking care of business, baby can't you see
I gotta make it for you, and I gotta make it for me
Sometimes it may seem girl I'm neglecting you
I'd love to spend more time
But I got so many things to do
Ooh, I got work to do, I got work baby
I got a job yeah I got work to do"
Feeling a bit rejected and almost dejected from a single email, I managed not to wallow in my pity. I kept thinking and seeing the situation in a positive light.
What happened?
Well, a few weeks ago a fellow journalism buddy help me revamp my resume and craft a cover/pitch letter to a major news publication. They were looking for a shopping columnist within their "Source" (wink - hint hint) department. The position seemed perfect as it was part-time and the subject is right up my alley. Yet, I believed I screwed up a bit in applying. In my hast, I applied for the position without running it by any one for a look over. I was confident enough to send my materials over as is. I showed my buddy what I sent after the fact and basically we came to the conclusion, it was pretty much a disaster for this particular go around. Things could have been spruced up, shorten and tightened a bit more.
We stayed up a bit late hammering out a new cover letter and revamping the resume. I resent my materials, beating the deadline, and awaited a response. I finally received one yesterday, to which the assignment editor wrote that I didn't have enough experience for the position.
*insert my deep inhale and tears ready to ball*
Of course I shared the news with my buddy and she suggested that I respond with a thank you and ask specifically what would have qualified me for the position. At first I was just going to let the issue go. However, my emotions (PMS) got the better of me. I sent the assignment editor a three liner, thanking her for the consideration, asking what would have qualified me and thanking her for any advice she could give me for future pitches.
A couple hours later a response. Without giving any further advice, she simply stated that the position calls for someone who has experience in writing about fashion and the arts.
Duh!
Shit!
I sold myself SHORT!!!!!!
I've done this before! Maybe not for five to ten years and granted it was for my college paper, but I basically spent almost two years writing on such subjects! I went to gallery/exhibit openings throughout the city. I've interviewed curators, artists and etc and reported back to campus.
In talking with my journalism buddy, she suggested that since the lines of communication are open that it's really up to me to not let it go stale. I've made the decision that I will be contacting the assignment editor in the next couple of days to pitch an idea to her for a freelance article. Perhaps that will be my chance to audition to show that I CAN do this!
What's interesting, as I was clearing more room for the renovations the other day I came across an old pitch letter I had written up. It was addressed to Fader Magazine. I had full intent to pitch a story concerning the house music scene here in DC. My angle for the story was straight - pun not intended. I had interviewed a couple of underground DJs and was on the path to interview more.... then a distraction hit. I believe it was during the time my mother had her mild stroke. I put everything to the side. Fader never got "the memo." Story.. nonexistent. Story...defunct.
I still may pick it up again, but I have to investigate to see if my angle will still work. If it is still fresh.
As for the idea I want to pitch to Ms. Assignment Editor...... I need to go WORK on that.
I Got Work To Do.
"It is not the man of great native talent who wins, but he who pushes his talent, however small, to its utmost capacity."
- From the book "Things Your Mother Always Told You But You Didn't Want to Hear" by Carolyn Coats
Yesterday I received an unexpectant review.
I was in the midst of ditching, packing and cleaning for more renovation work when the phone rang. It was the project manager/lead for the volunteer work I did with the group of sixth grade boys. The culminating event for the project was this past Monday. However, I missed it as I had to take care of some things for the Snickerdoodle.
Apparently I made a lasting impression on the boys as they were excited to see their name in print. The final project for the boys included an anthology the project manager and I put together for the them. The book featured the work they did with me and even a few written things from their regular classwork. It also - in keeping with the theme of creativity and business matters/sense - the book also featured their professional profile (what they wish to be in life). The boys also had business cards as well that told their "desired" profession.
"Believe me when I say, your name is gold in that school. The teachers were impressed, the parents and the principal loved it."
I was given praise for the work I did during my short time with the boys. Honestly, I didn't know I had introduced or encouraged whatever creativity they had within them. Some weren't use to speaking in front of their class. Because I had them stand in front and present their poems, they were eager to share their work to all by Monday's event. What I'm most happy about is the fact that the boys actually learned something!
The whole time as I held the phone to my ear and listened to Ms. S go on and on about how what they experienced through the program has changed them, I couldn't help but wonder if this is part of my purpose - basically just inspiring and enpowering through writing. Nisha use to ask me ..or tell me rather.. that I should thinking about teaching. I don't know about that kid! As I tell Nisha all the time, ESPECIALLY TO HER, teaching is a special gift. I saw this in my mom and all her close friends who are now retired from the school system. I see it in Nisha as she is a high school English teacher in the Miami/Ft. Lauderdale area.
Me? I never wanted or even considered being a teacher. I don't have that much patience to deal with an ill school system, parents who act worse than some children or being over worked and under valued.. even though the most rewarding part is watching a child mature with knowledge and molding them for the world. I guess what made it "easy" for me with these boys is the fact that it was a small group - easy to manage. The other thing is - as with most sixth graders - they were very impressionable. As I prepared for my presentation I made sure I was on their level with some things, while exposing them to something they may come across is in junior high school.
Ms. S went on to say how the boys gave her suggestions for next year, which proves the point that children want to learn when you take your time with them and make it interesting. I hope to be around for next year's project. I really did have fun doing this. I'm actually sorry to see it end.
As for my purpose and my gift... I honestly do believe this writing with worth more than gold. Thank you Lord for such a gift.
1. Viewing Kimora Lee Simmons' reality show.
I cried.
Last night's (Sunday) episode was a part two to Kimora and her production team staging the Phat Fashions fashion show for New York's Annual Fashion Week. A segment of the show features Kimora giving her oldest daughter, Ming Lee, a pep talk about her hair. Ming Lee, 8, was about to take part in a rite of passage that all little girls of color (or perhaps any girl) goes through at some point. In prepping for the fashion show, Ming Lee's hair was about to be "blown out" or straightened via the blow dryer. Kimora's pep talk was more of handing out "the law" in how to keep up with such a hair style, plus bumping up Ming Lee's chores around the house - to washing dishes.
After a kiss to seal the hair and chores deal, and Kimora's daughters asking her how old was she when her hair was blown out - to which Kimora responded "at the age of 13 when I was hitting the runways in Paris" - an emotional mommy began to break down and cry. Ironically, I was crying right along with Kimora as she (maybe with a little bit of dramatic overtones) talked through tears of how her babies are growing up before her eyes and it was all too much for her.
I thought about my own daughter. How she is a little over 13 months now. I look at her now and compare pictures I took of her last year when she was a few weeks old. She's definately older. She has her own personality. She is starting her journey of becoming her own unique spirit. I'm anxious, scared and happy at the same time to the different rites of passage she will go through - menstrual cycle, first bra, allowed to have boys call her, wearing stockings, wearing high heels, makeup and of course hair permed/straightened.
I was roughly 12 when my hair was processed. My mother was furious. At the time I didn't understand what the big deal was. I just knew I was tired of the hot comb. I had enough war wounds (hot comb scars) behind my ears to plead my case. My grandmother agreed and "ordered" it done. Aunt P, who worked as a beautician at the time, commenced with the order. PCJ (as it was/is called) or Pressing Comb in a Jar did the trick. Funny thing is, all those years I spent with processed hair, I finally let the chemicals go. It's been eight or nine years as I've returned to my "au natural" roots (which do need some professional work here and there), and began a regime of washing my hair every two weeks and either letting it air dry into a bush or finding the patience of pressing my own hair with the hot comb - only to make it managable to comb and not bone straight.
However, back to Kimora....
It was at that moment of her "breakdown" that I truly gained respect for Kimora as a business woman but more importantly as a mother. Though she is demanding and a bit of a diva with her over the top ways, the love she has for her daughters is not for show for the Style Network cameras. It's real. In all that she does, she always makes it a point that no matter what, when her babies need her she is there.
I can only hope that I am doing just the same for my own daughter. I'm always careful to continue to let my passion for writing and all that I want to do drive me, but making sure it doesn't leave my daughter in the dust somewhere. Whatever I achieve in life I want it to be for us - God, my daughter and myself.
2. Reading Certain Girls
Since I began reading Jennier Weiner's latest novel, I've been happily entralled in Cannie Shapiro's world again AND her daughter, Joy. Ironically, I laugh when I read Joy's thoughts, because like any adolescent in this world what "tween" doesn't think their mother is a little "off." As I've been reading I have noticed that I see myself in both Cannie and Joy this time. Joy represents my "ugly" teen years, but she also represents something new in my life... yes my Snickerdoodle. Though Cannie is a little older than me in this book (she's in her 40's where as in Good In Bed she was right on the bullseye as my current age - late twenties) I still related to her on some level as she flashes back to her twenties to relive some horrid "single mom/writer" moments.
What's funny here.. in keeping with the theme of rite of passages...Joy is obviously about to go through one with her bat mitzvah on the horizon. However, as I keep reading it seems that her rite of passage is coming in another form as well..learning the real truth of how she came to be and beginning to understand her mother's intentions, ways, persona...etc.
Part of Cannie's past deals with a book she wrote that was based on her life. However, she fictionalized it with a hyper/over sexed heroine as she told a tale of how she over came some of her issues with the men in her life; a father that didn't want her and a boyfriend that was a pile of....shit. Not to mention a mother that eventually admitted that she was a lesbian. Naturally Joy ends up reading the book and at the moment is seeking answers, on her own, about her mom and dad's relationship and her existence.
When I initally started blogging (in 2002) and decided that what I wrote would eventually end up in a manuscript or book form, a lot of it did sound like a broken record. That was because it was during the time when I was in my depression and part of my solace or my comfort zone at the time was through sex. As I began to put the pages together, I didn't like what I saw. Granted it was my truth. That shit hurt. Still, I always worried about who would eventually read my truth if in fact it did get as far as being published. Who would it help? Who would it hurt?
My manuscript has been changed so many times because
1) I'm never going to be happy with it until my brain can finally say "STOP!" That's just the writer perfectionist in me.
2) Though I did fictionalized it, those who are close to me will know it's about me. So what will my mother think, especially in some of the mother vs. daughter scenes?
3) Since becoming a mother, I now feel it's my duty to use it (or perhaps anything I write) as a tool to teach my daughter a (few) lessons in life.. for when she is older and is able to comprehend what I went through.
In reading about Cannie and Joy, it's also bringing up a couple of the same issues I had.. umm HAVE... with my mom.... the over protectiveness and the broken communication line. Where I am currently in the story I do feel as if the crap is about to hit the fan. I'm just anxious to read about it and see where the two Shapiro ladies will go from there.
Another rite of passage...being able to face your truths, the whole truths so help you God.
Forgive me "father" for I have sinned it has been several days, maybe weeks, since my last confession.
I've been on a slight mission ever since I purchased a dress a week or so ago.
My mission...finding the perfect black patent leather clutch purse.
After my free oil change (thank you Mazda), I ended up at Target today and was very disappointed in their selection. Really... how hard can it be to find a nice black patent leather clutch bag without big silly bows? I know I'm a child of the 80s but DAMN!
COOOOOME OOOOOON!
I steered the cart away from that department, picked up a few items for the Snickerdoodle and landed in heaven.
My eyes lit up when I saw the stationary/card section.
Okay, I don't know what it is about me and greeting cards or stationary exactly. I don't even know when this addiction started. I have a fetish for pretty paper thingys. I literally have a collection of greeting cards that I have not given to anyone, because they are too pretty to give to just anyone.
Hey some people collect stamps.
Me....
I'm a pretty paper person.
I did manage to pick up a couple of Mother's Day cards that I will be giving to my mother and grandmother. I still have May birthday cards to pick up. oye!
Eventually the cards I have in my collection will go to someone... well.. I'm not too sure about the card with the glamour high heel (as pictured above). I simply adore that one. So if anyone gets it, they better damn sure appreciate it.
Anywho....
Needless to say, I caved to my greeting card addiction right there in the middle of Target. To hell with the clutch purse...for now.
On to Barnes & Noble.
My original mission with B&N was to pick up the May issue of Allure Magazine (I actually got the last copy! Did everyone know this was the annual "naked" issue?)
Again, I was in heaven.
1. I was in a freaking bookstore. I miss buying a book or two.
2. B&N has just about any pop culture and sub pop culture magazine you can think of. I'm a straight up glossy, airbrush, feature writing, artistic photography, quirky article, inspirational and motivational, 1,000 word count..... WHORE!
Along with Allure, I picked up two of my favs.
Black Book and Fader (oh I missed reading Fader!)
I also picked up the 2008 edition of Writer's Market! Oh how I NEED this as I scope out who to query for freelance projects and even further my search for a literary agent!
(Big Score for me!)
Also, I could not resist another Jennifer Weiner book.
OK! Stop! Hold it! The last book by Weiner that I actually own, read and loved was her first, Good In Bed. I could relate to that book on so many levels - and probably even more so now. Ironically I thought about that book last night. I had the urge to re-read it, but my butt was too lazy to get out of bed to hunt for it in my maze of boxes and such thanks to renovation inconvenience. I never got around to reading In Her Shoes, which I'm mad at myself for - since I wanted to read the book before seeing the movie. I didn't bother picking up Little Earthquakes, because after reading the synopsis I wasn't interested. However, today I just couldn't refuse her latest, Certain Girls. The story picks up where Good in Bed left off. So yes... if you are a Jennifer Weiner reader... Cannie Shapiro is back!
With nothing much more to say I would like to be excused now from today's confession. I'm eager to do some self assigned homework in drumming up some ideas, reading a chapter or two in The Purpose Driven Life and skim through my magazines while drinking some ice tea and wiggling my toes under my covers.
If there shall be a penance for my addictive ways let it be the Snickerdoodle refusing to sleep unless she curls up with me. I can handle that.
I'm utterly speechless right now. I almost feel like crying. I feel like I'm experiencing another epiphany.
For the past couple of days, in light of my conversation I had with my aunt , I've been mulling over pushing myself (even harder) out of my comfort zone. As I scoped out a few more frelance gigs on journalism job boards, I almost felt intimidated. A lot of the freelance gigs that are up for grabs are based in New York. I thought back to one of my old writing & reporting professors and the journalism logic he shared; a journalist my have to be a nomad from time to time. So I'm not a full fledge journalist and most of the freelance projects I'm doing are more so on the creative side now. However, a lot of the "cool" projects I see are outside of DC. I STILL have this mindset that I can find a freelance gig or two in DC (or at least in the area) - one that I LIKE! It would accommodate my lifestyle and be convenient.
I often complained how creativity is often underground, hidden in the cracks of this city. It may not be as prevalent as in New York, maybe Philly and perhaps San Francisco or Chicago, because politics is the mother load here. So yes, I've been trying to carve out my own niche. However, today I took a look at what some of the projects from New York are looking for. Guidelines seems simple enough, but there goes that pain-in-the-ass self doubt. Am I really an expert on fashion? The woman who just put some pink and white poka dot sheets on her bed?
(don't ask)
I even considered posting a profile on another journalism site under their freelance section. That other pain in the ass set in, intimidation. I began to feel really small when browsing the other profiles and taking note of how many years they have been at this.
I started reading emails and clearing out my inbox. I came across one of those weekly gossip thingys that Ms. C always sends me. To be fair, the one she sends is really the most truthful. She actually sent it a week ago, so I'm a bit late on the latest. I skimmed through not caring much about Star Jones and Al Rynolds' divorce, Eddie Murphy wanting the engagement ring back from Tracey Emmonds or even Whitney Houston and Brandy's brother, Ray J, dating again (yuck!). My eyes locked on a small paragraph about Jill Scott.
Jill Scott, along with actresses Angie Harmon and Gabrielle Union, go nude for Allure Magazine's annual "nude" issue. I did a quick search on the net and there is was, a pre posting of what to expect in the May issue of Allure Magazine.
I got a chance to read the inset attached to her picture. Jill talks about how nervous she was. She couldn't sleep the night before. She didn't think she would feel comfortable in doing this. Her comfort zone of being her naked size 16 self is usually in her home, when she is alone. Yet, she did this to join up with Allure's cause - to celebrate EVERY woman no matter her size. Basically Jill pushed passed her comfort zone. The end result; a liberation she never felt before.
(see photo shoot in video below)
I
I feel inspired. Being naked in front of strangers, let alone to have your "beauty" posted for publication is not the easiest thing to do - unless you just that damn confident about yourself. My writing and my professional experiences, creative or journalistic, are me; EXPOSED.
My self doubt and intimidation are going to have to take a back seat. I'm on a mission as I seek my liberation.
Copping The High
By: Mahoganie
April 10, 2008
Washington, DC
Never knew what an addiction was
Until there was you
My internal tracks
Evidence of what I took in vain
My past filled with something like you
Still, it's not the same
Thought I turned the page
Wrestling, biting, scratching, fighting
Emancipating myself from the
Meaningless
Then there was you
Not fully aware of your presence
I made one move
It put me in place to be
A super hero by day
Defending her honor
Yet at night I disrobe my armor
Thoughts of you
Missing you
Excited by you
Indifferent about you
Wanting you
Needing you
Addicted to you
Cold sheets
Head bowed
Eyes closed
Still darkness
Explore
Touches like yours, but mine
Unafraid
Aware, but soon gone
My breath is yours
My voice is your whisper
Lower...
I tease, you tease
Feeling...
Stiff, rubber, veins...You're stiff and girthy
Deeper...
I go, you go
My cries are mine
Sensation surreal
Enter...stay...tease...slow...go...stop...
Stay...caress...tease...slow...go
My trip...
My hidden tracks
Filled and over flowing with my sinful lust
I hear nothing
I see nothing
Just feel
My trip
Feeling you inside of me
The power of one
Taking me higher
To a place that I cannot reach in reality
Overwhelmed
I succumb to your calling
My trip is done
My tears freely run
Never knew what an addition was
Until there was you
It's going on 2 am.
I have the munchies
I'm already showing signs of "morning breath"
My brain is churning
And I want to soak in a bubble bath to calm myself... yes at this bewitching hour.
I've been up all evening doing what I do best ... being a writer/editor
Errr forget that it hardly shows on some jack'd up blog entries I post unedited.
After doing my "mommy thing" I went into full editing mode.
Some for a small freelance gig.
The other part.....
Well....
The bulk of what I had to work on concerned me and any chance I have at scoring the jobs that I really want and (that I think) I am qualified for.
As much as I hate to admit it.. it was time for me to revamp my resume. I received much help from a close journalism buddy of mine - who, if I score this job of a lifetime I'll be singing her praise along with God's.
She stayed online with me as I reconstructed a cover letter from the bottom up, helping me to make sure it was short, tight and concise.
Then I showed her my resume....................
It was probably a news editor's worse nightmare...
It wasn't too bad from an outside journalistic point of view?
ok it was...I'm thankful for my friend for pointing things out from a journalism perspective.
What an editor looks for..what they don't care for...
I had a whole bunch listed that they wouldn't care for - yuck!
I will say it held up pretty good considering the interviews I've scored, including one that took place last Friday - which I'll discuss later if time permits. However as the story goes it usually isn't enough. I didn't have enough moxie to land it.
By the way.. I LOVE the word Moxie!
This time I want the landing. I want to make it stick!
It's late and she's gone to bed.
I'm about to hit up the fridge for a bowl of fresh strawberries.... after I brush my teeth.. and maybe jump in the shower to feel refreshed.
Thank Gawd I don't have a man waiting on me in bed right now.
I reak of the Snickerdoodle's breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Tomorrow morning (later today) a final sweep of the resume and then it's off to........
I'm keeping it a secret until I know for sure they WANT me.
In not so recent days, a couple of people, actually one, has been wondering if I will ever hold a full fledge conversation with them again. I won't lie, there have been a few people I quasi-cut from my life. I don't have much (if any at all) contact with them anymore. I just choose to remain silent to each of them for different reasons. My silence has been worrisome on their part. I never really fully explained my silence just to say I was tired of explaining myself to them and/or they just never saw where I was coming from no matter how many times and how many angles I tried to get my point across. Their skull was just to thick to absorb the information.
I will admit, one person I randomly thought of so much that he contacted me out of the blue to pick up his stalkerish ways. I think I deserved that, since my mind was always wondering what happen to.....
Nevertheless he hasn't contacted me since that random day in January.
In my thinking and listening to the song "Never (Past Tense)" sung by Tina Arena, I was able to shoot some thoughts down in a matter of minutes. It's still a rough draft. I may tweak it a bit later on. However, I just felt like writing to those that I have chosen to remain silent to.
Maybe they will understand, especially one particular person.... he knows.
Silence
By Mahoganie
April 3, 2008
Washington, DC
My Silence
Itself
Is not for you to understand
Yet it is for you and I to stop
Where there is nothing left
To say
To give
To take
To love or live for
Each other
My Silence
Itself
Is not a signal of hate
It is my shield
For the rampart conceals me from
What is left of you
You still hide nearby
My Silence
Itself
Is my exhaust
For it is me working and seeking
My own existence
That was lost in you
My Silence
Itself
Is part me learning on
Loving me more
Is part you
Still haunted by what was
And What Became
My Silence
Itself
Is learning to listen
To a voice
Other than yours & my own
Living without noise
My Silence
Itself
May hurt
Yet it can never bare the many thorns
Which you secretly used against me
My scars ran deep
Causing utter blindness
My reality became a fallacy
We were a fairytale
My Silence
Is mine
Self-inflicted
So,
With no excuses
With no shame
With no blame
Silent I shall remain.
It's the Snickerdoodle's birthday weekend.
I'm completely in awe at what has transpired in a year.
I still get jitters when I look into the future and wonder what is ahead for the both of us.
She learns from me and I from her.
My guess is, we'll probably end up like the Gillmore Girls....with a twist.
Well I hope.
The weekend is pretty full , but there is no big fan fare or anything of that nature for her first birthday. I figure I have plenty of time to make this up in future birthdays.
With so much going on, especially as the contractors FINALLY begin to start construction on the renovation, there will be just a be a simple and quiet moment in between traveling to and fro.
A cake with a decorative Winnie the Pooh candle and family.
Ms. (In) Dependent
By Mahoganie
March 2008
Washington, DC
Ms. (In) Dependent
Decided to get up and this morning and walk
With her destination unknown
Off she went
Cruising a narrow corridor
Exploring
A tapestry of clothing
A mountain range of dressers
Dusty peaks of exquisite smells
I watched from afar as she grabbed a loeg of the old night stand
Balance and Confindence gained within
She looked back as if to say
"Don't fret. I got this!"
She passed a hill of old drop socks
Navigating her way through a maze of Donald Pliner, Ferragamo and Naturalizer boxes
Finally reaching a resting place
Grandma's bed
I couldn't help but to get a twinkle in my eye
My pride
For she is like me
In search of some kind of destiny
Child like Mother
Mother like child
for so long I was a melody
In search of the perfect lyric
God must have bionic hearing
Out of the ash of love confused with lust
he delivered my song
My better half
A life lyric helping to create the ultimate love song
I am her
She is me
My Aries wild child
To my calm Aquarian breeze.
Energy astound
"When you get blue, I feel it too."
Child like mother
Mother like child
Same (In) dependence
Feeding off a source in order to grow to be free
Wanting to explor the world
Even at an age so mild.
