Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Alicia Keys
Current mood: thankful

I love that her voice changed.
Most times, you listen to a song, you are touched by the words, graced by the music. There are artists that have powerful, beautiful voices; captivating and well trained. Sometimes you get all of the above - God, there is so much great music in this world. That's amazing and all, but rarely am I so moved by a voice; to put yourself so wholly into your art, your passion, that it actually changes the way you sound when you sing...it's breathtaking. It brings tears to my eyes because it's so raw. My fingertips are tingling.
I love the way this feels.

Monday, November 19, 2007

I can barely...
Current mood: giddy

contain myself.
Yay for the hilariously juxtaposed ebb and flow of a late-20's female's emotional range. Who needs drugs when ya got hormones. I'm sayin'.
At the risk of being effusive, and then reading my writing later and regretting gushing so much b/c it somehow once again came back to bite me in the ass, life is good. I've turned a corner as far as my ability to deal with some things, and this is a milestone that I have really been praying for. I love that I can be sad, I can feeeeelllll sad, and it doesn't land me in the bed for three days. I can feel sad and still laugh, be happy about my life, see the positive light instead of letting the negative shadows overwhelm me. You see, this is why I avoid a lot of things. Because I think I can't handle them. And that makes me feel weak, which is absolutely no bueno. But what I've realized recently is that to learn to handle things, I've got to give myself to them, and let it be what it will. The first time I got punched in the face hurt like a bitch. The second time hurt just as much but it didn't scare me anymore. And I learned to dodge the punch or deal with the impact with my face accordingly.
Counting my blessings has never left me coming up short for anything. There is a lot that I want passionately and know that I can achieve. THIS is where my patience is best utalized. And my attention wanders once again...

Sunday, November 18, 2007

After you read this, hit delete...
Current mood: good

Football makes sense to me. Each quarter, 15 minutes. 1st down, ten yards. Extra point? Sailing through the uprights, or not. The goal, touchdown. As many as you can make. Two point conversion. Defending your goal...there really are not many grey areas. Sure, there are moments in the game when I am sloshing beer all over myself from gesticulating at the screen..."what the HELL was THAT?" But for the most part, I get it. I may not LIKE it, but I get it.
What I don't get is you. And what you fail to understand, and have probably failed to see the entire time, is that YOU is always collective. Until you single yourself out. Until I realize that you are categorizing me with the sum of all the female parts that you have come to know. That you are assuming, judging, and dismissing all in one fell swoop of rationale..."I've been through this before, I know what this girl, while never having been in any similar situation with her specifically, is going to do, because she is a GIRL."
Good call.
I sit back and watch. And see the inaction, the nonchalance, the ridiculously inadequate game, and I laugh. Now I laugh. It hasn't always ended in laughter. But now, I ruminate for a good five minutes, lick my finger and tick the air. I check myself for bruises and gashes and once I see that the damage is minimal, I turn in for a good night of sleep, because I know that the bruises will quickly fade and the memories will be sweet. Cute, if you will. A little "awwww" with a nice pat on the head kind of cute.

Since you don't know me, here's what you missed. And here's what might actually apply universally to the next girl you judge "unworthy" of your...time? Whatever.

Honey, I've been through too much in my life to get all bent b/c you don't think you can hang. The Dixie Chicks song "Let 'Er Rip" jumps readily to mind here. There is nothing you are going to lose by being honest with me. Having what seems to be a good day; kissing me like it really means something on a street corner, and then turning around the next day and acting like you could give a fuck less is not being honest. It's being a coward. Wishy washy is the worst trait in a man, and I don't have the grace to tolerate it.
You don't like? I understand. And I don't fault you for that. What I do fault you for is the lack of...common courtesy, basically. Especially when your claim to fame is being a good guy. And I believe, ironic as it may be, that you are a good one. A very good one. And I know good guys. They are few and far between, but they define good. Not just think about it when they are bored with what society is throwing in their lap.
This is where you shake your head and go "whoa. Crazy." Or, "dodged that bullet." Whatever you're thinking...the point is, I don't care anymore. I did. I really did. But I've gone from "interested in the ways of your mind" to "I can't even fathom what the hell is going on in there." And I bear no ill will. I just cannot even begin to wrap my head around your behavior, and I haven't gotten enough positive feedback to be patient. So I am making the decision, and I am done.

Bless.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Double-edged sword
Current mood: dorky

I love Jay-Z. Anyone who is so unapologetic about who he (seemingly) is, gets marked down in my book of grudging respect. But this http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601109&sid=azto7U.TmGX0&refer=home, this is just...well I started to say silly, but then I wanted to go with funny, or something along the lines of tragic, but settled for society's typical response to even the most inane:

go figure.

Yet another reason why I grumble under my breath daily, after dealing with and hearing about technology that doesn't work, rude people, the general state of our country and the world, etc., etc., that I want to buy my own island. I will survive there by fishing, growing my own fruit and veggies, solar power, and breathing. At some point I expect the Monkeys will join me to form the compound we've discussed in detail over the years, complete with swimming pool, hottub, and fire pole. Of course the significant others will be invited, and a few people we've all met in our lives that are wicked cool and understand the exact reasons we've abandoned civility for living by our wits and whatever other scant relatable skills we have.
I really am only half joking here, folks.

The cats resting her chin on my toe.

Not my foot. Not my toe-s...her tiny furry little chin is propped on my big toes.
And she's lookin' at me like, "AND what?"

I am sleepy. A little cranky, but satisfied...ish. Good, new to me live music makes me happy. Getting all gross and sweaty and into the crowd makes me elated and calm, at the very same time. Dodging the bartender at the gator bar makes me giggle..."WOMAN. What are you DOING?" Burning the skin off of the roof of my mouth on a slice in the wee hours of the morning makes me repeat in my head once again "I need more grace than I thought."

I want to be able to have more tea parties. I want to be in a place where I am comfortable doing that. Not cringing the whole time. And I wish that I had little delicate china cups instead of mugs, 'cause that would be a lot funnier...three large boys sipping tea from a floral pattern at 2 am, pinkies up while Stacey snores. Jokers. :-)

This is where the ish came from.

And the fact that I feel no stronger desire at this moment than to reach my hand out to you. I want to be the hand you reach for. And I don't think I'm wrong about that.

Grace. Grace grace grace.

It'll come.

4th Floor Serenade


It’s like you’re placing
every song
from the soundtrack
of her life in the air,
for people on the street
to hear
and remember their own scenes
accompanied by these lyrical sounds;
when the notes invade
their preoccupation,
it is when they pause.
She loves the public diversion,
the melding of street noise
with the serenade through the
Parquet floor that supports her feet
and covers your head.
It is so complicated and simply sweet;
of all of the things to communicate with
your mind to her heart,
you unwittingly have chosen
the one that enunciates the loudest.
She doesn’t know you
her eyes have glimpsed your
form once
but she feels gratitude
and stops to grin in wonder.
For in the selection of resonant
riffs and hooks
that you use to inspire yourself
she sees a comrade
a co-conspirator
who never needed to see, touch, hear or
miss her
to understand.

Morning Motivation Poem

Weird, really. This double life.
The one inside my head,
and then the other one
...that you seem to have such
a marvelously hard time with.
Sometimes I wonder
which you're seeing.

It strikes me as odd
your confusion
the way a small child
is confused over why
a square block won't fit
into a heart hole.

Then I realize:
it's me trying to
force the wrong block
into the right heart.
And I grin
and offer you my hand.

Evidently the Power Point presentation wasn’t a bad idea after all, Alicia.

Because I am at a loss. I, throughout my life, have done everything I know to make you understand. Pictures, charts, maps, mimes, informational films (and not the good kind), smoke signals, pig latin, hieroglyphs…you name it, I have done it all, while standing on my head, holding my breath, painting my toenails and whistling Dixie. And for God’s Sake I am quite sure that I don’t even know the proper tune, I was always just winging it. All of that to have you look at me like I am speaking another language (although I think I’ve tried that too) altogether different from the one that you know.
A little dramatic? Well, yeah, sure. Duh. But it is how I feel sometimes. Like I did something in a previous lifetime that sealed my fate in this one to be invisible and mute. Even as I continually shriek with all of the force of my lungs and pirouette at odd, jerking angles that make me stand out from the back of the fluid, albeit unremarkable, chorus. Listen, I’m not trying to be a pretty ballerina here, just an expressive one.
The theory of "what’s that girl doin’?"
"Don’t know but it looks different. Let’s pay attention to her."
Has clearly failed me. But where I once thought it was for your attention, I have quickly come to realize that my black sheep, odd man out, carve my own path out of stone mentality had nothing to do with you, them or anything else at all other than becoming who I am.
Huh.
You mean I am not a bobble-head doll, here to please you?
You mean, even if I make you angry or hurt or confused, or God forbid if I make you think, that it is ok because it’s all coming from a pure place, instead of a calculated, ill-contented, off balanced one?
Interesting.
So, what I’m hearing here is, all this drama could be about me, and not you? Ok, let me catch up. This could be about me figuring out my life, exorcising my previously internalized demons and healing the wounds that they left so deeply inside of me? I could be re-learning how to communicate; i.e. open mouth let words that express true feelings escape without the strange urge to throw myself into traffic and then, be patient enough, not cringing and twitchy, to see how they were received and then reciprocate accordingly? I could be learning how to let my walls down…you mean to tell me that I could be testing the water to see how it feels to me? To me without being concerned with you?
Well, that is astounding, really.
That all of my fumbling and fussing, loving and hurting, clarity and confusion when it comes to every last one of you can be about me until it becomes about us. That it doesn’t matter if you understand, as long as I am true to myself, my family, my friends and my faith. All of this is going to come together eventually no matter how hard I clamor at the wrong human being to be heard.
This is all very mind-blowing and revolutionary. I might need to sleep on it.
For a few years. Until I get woken up.
Or until I get tired of chasing my tail and entertaining myself for the moment in my dreams.
Whichever comes first.
Because, believe it or not (and I know you don’t believe it at all) through all of this, I still believe in Prince Charming. I just don’t believe that I have to wait for him to wake me up. I’ll do that myself. Then draw my sword to slay a few dragons and ogres before I meet him in the Land of Happy Medium. I work my way towards him, he works his way towards me. Get it? (Sorry, still a little bit stuck in the spelling it out for you phase).

What? I can’t write my own fairy tale?

If you must be ridiculous, please don't take yourself seriously while doing it. None of us are.

I have to.

There is nothing else I can say.
Every time I ache and cry, smile and hope, look into another's eyes who knows...it is a prayer from my soul - my true intention. My whole being's communication with God.

I have to.

There is no if I do not. This is not an ultimatum, a bargain with my circumstances or the universe.

I will.