Unrequited Love-The Set Up

She had forgotten something.  It was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.  She couldn't quite place it. Afe placed the key in the lock, tried one more time to remember what she had forgotten, then turned the key to the left, opening up the door to her flat.  There he was just as she left him this morning. He really was going to have to start pulling his wait around here. She couldn't bare to bring it up again tonight.  It had been a rough day at work and the last thing she needed was an argument about him just staying on the couch all day.

"Hi, I'm home."
He didn't even look around.
"I'm home." She said it more like a sigh of defeat then a greeting. She set down her work bag and put her keys on the hook.  She had been so distracted lately she seldom could find her keys on the first try in the mornings, even with the addition of this strategically placed hook.

"Afe."
"Yes."
"Afe."
"Yes, yes, I'm home. Are you hungry? I am going to heat up some of that veggie lasagna we ate last night."
"Afe."
She crossed over to him and snuggled into his large arm.
"This has to stop. We have to stop. You are. . ." he trailed off.
"I'm fine. You're fine. Why do you want to start again tonight.  I just walked in the door.  Can't we at least eat first."
Afe walked over to the refrigerator and put the dish into the microwave and turned it on.  She noticed him slump his shoulders. She walked back over to him.
" I know, I know this is hard.  I'm really willing to do my part.  But you have to do yours too. I love you so much. I can't bare thinking of us a part. You have become habit, more than habit." She wrapped her thumb and pointer finger in his locs and tugged playfully.  She pulled him close and kissed his near cheek. She loved the fat in them.  He would swear that there was no fat in his face, but there was no denying the give that she felt anytime she patted them or kissed them.  "I know it's been difficult lately. But I promise it will get better.  Just give it a chance. You promised me you would try.  Promises are IMPORTANT. It's your WORD. I can't have you go back on your word. It's just like lying.  And we both know where that has gotten us."

Afe felt herself getting upset.  She got up and went to the kitchen to pull out the lasagna.  She took the knife out of the drawer.  Before she cut into the lasagna, she touched the blade with her finger.  Slowly she then pressed the knife onto her thigh. Flat at first, then she pivoted it ever so slightly until the blood came. She had become very good at this. It was an art really.  The pain and release it brought came as quickly as she saw the blood.  She put the knife in the sink, and got a towel to contain the blood that was coming faster than she expected.  After using the towel Afe went to the drawer to pull out a bandage.  She exhaled slowly.  She felt much better. She went back to wash and dry the knife, cut two pieces of lasagna and placed them on their plates.  On his portion she grabbed his special seasoning and  parmesan and shook copious amounts of it.  It's amazing what lengths she'd go to to keep him happy.

She took both plates over to where he was sitting.  "Here," she whispered. "Let me feed you." He looked at her.

"It'll be okay. I'm fine."

The corners of his mouth turned up in a half smile.  He closed his eyes and let himself be fed.

Unrequited Love

the trace of his lips. My fingertip turned holy

wanting to crawl inside him; hide there until the pain comes.

Living in the rejection. Familiar. I don’t know how acceptance feels. A strange place that.

Crawling from the tips of his toes to the top of head.  Entangle my fingers in his hair. Losing myself just under his skin.

"Maybe we should stop. I don’t want to hurt your feelings"

"It’ll be okay. I’m fine"

I need this

Just to feel something

Something

Even if it is pain

These tears aren’t for you

I’m mourning the love

I never had for myself

This is horribly delicious

And Awaaaaay We go

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

Hey y'all,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

see yall in person or on the internets.

On Divorce and Dating

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

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

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

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

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

It just keeps coming back

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

Early Morning Daydream

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





Oh here is another one with more of us:



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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life of a Single Mother on Mother's Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

7:00 am see 1:00 am

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Love You and Other Lies Boys Tell

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

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

Check this out

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile back at the boy bunny ranch:

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

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

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

Unexpected Waffles (beginning of a short story)

ts okay you know.

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

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

Stuff that happened while I wasn't on the internet

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

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

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

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

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

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

I knew an old lady who swallowed a fly

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

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

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

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

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

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

Black Writer's Reunion and Conference

Day 1:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Best Date Ever

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

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

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

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

Signed,
your downstairs neighbor
Michele

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

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

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

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

Um, excuse me say what now?

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

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

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

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

A Flower Pot is Not a Hat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frosted Shredded Wheat

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next steps:

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

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

Underwater

Sometimes I want to go back in time

bring him back through space

holding tight to his waist

in an intergalactic spooning position

brng back what was the best of us

scrape together the makings of us

into my backpack

and bring us back

all the pieces

and glue them back together

back from ashes and dust

back to life again

all 2 hours and 36 minutes of us

wouldn't that be a good trick

checking in with you

making sure everything's ok with you

thats a lie

making sure something disastrous hasn't happened

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

hadn't happened

though it may have

and i just haven't gotten back from space

with my hearing working properly

When you have been underwater for so long

breathing comes difficult

and I find myself looking

for a familiar island for me to breathe free

another lie

I just miss you

miss what we could have been

or what my mind had created us to be

they say curiosity killed the cat

but I am a dog person

and I don't think I'll ever learn

even this poem was written in your voice

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

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




damion.deejay: ok

me: how was school

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

me: why was it awesome

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

8:53 PM me: ooh yay!

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

me: hmmm

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

and then baths and dressed for ma's

damion.deejay: noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! no cleanin up!

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

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

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

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

8:58 PM me: yes i will help you

we'll do it together

damion.deejay: yes

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

damion.deejay: ok.true true

8:59 PM me: ok

!

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

9:03 PM me: peace out, son!

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

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

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

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

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



Me: hey Fred



Fred: hey boo whats up



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

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



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



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

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



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



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



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



So the conversation actually went like this:



Me: Hey Fred



Fred: What's up



Me: Whatcha doin'



Fred: Nothin, just workin'



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



Fred: ok



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



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



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



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



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



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



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



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