#112314 Smells Like Teen Spirit

Growing up, we were almost never away from my mother. My father's work caused him to have countless business trips, but Mommalily was almost always home with us.  When we were little, every night, she would either tuck us in our respective beds and snuggle with us until we each fell asleep, or if we'd whined and coerced enough, let the three of us pile up in her bed and fight over who got to snuggle closest to her.  That was what I knew love to be; seeing the person you loved most before you closed your eyes at night with their scent curled up in your nose. The few times Mommy did have a conference to attend, I'd stave off missing her by nuzzling with a shirt or slip of hers, trying to make it easier to bear being away from her. I didn't realize until much later in life how that coping mechanism conditioned me, how innate smells became to me and those I loved.

A few weeks ago, I was stealthily collecting clothes for some of my more less financially secure students and for some of the homeless in my neighborhood I try to help out.  I know my friends cycle through their clothes and trends faster than these kids do, so I put out an APB to homies, lovers, and friends to aid in my collection.  The Muse was always well connected, but beyond that, was always kind.  After one text conversation, he assembled a huge box of clothes and shoes when I told him about how one of my favorite students was being teased for coming to school slightly stinky and in dingy shirts; they did wear the same size after all.

SIEMPRE #011714

We're two lost souls on the highway of life. 

And there's no one with whom we would ruther.

She is my sister, my bestie, my other half.

It was late October and we were walking hurriedly back to my house from somewhere we shouldn't have been.  She and I have always had adventures that began with me proposing something we should do, and she unwillingly coming along for the ride. I think we'd snuck over to some boy's house while his parents weren't home, and we needed to get back to my house before......fill in the mischievous blank.

#010614 Losing My.....

(If the following reminds you at all of an SATC episode, I apologize in advance. In my circle of friends I'm ALWAYS the Samantha.)

All weekend long I did nothing but sleep, eat, shower occasionally, discover the miracle that is Hulu Plus, turn off my cable, and attempt to get my life in order. That's what weekends in the winter are made for. I imposed a bedtime/curfew for myself for school nights so that I could ensure maximum calm and positivity at work the next day. I stayed up and slept late most of the weekend. Now, here it is, the night before work resumes and I can't sleep. As I often do, I reached into the bottom drawer of my nightstand to grab my pocket lover/sleep aid so I can rock myself to sleep.  5 attempts later, I was sweating like a whore in church and no matter how I tried to relax and access the top shelf of my Spank Bank,  I could not achieve my petit mort. I kept having the petit mal version of an orgasm. It's like I'm almost there and then it disappears. 

#010114 I'm Back...

10 years ago began one of the rockiest decades of my life.  In the space of 60 days, I lost 2 grandparents, broke up with one of the best boyfriends I ever had for reasons that seem positively ridiculous now, and allowed all of the worries of a quarter life crisis to kick into full throttle. These stresses would strangle me nightly. I had debilitating insomnia, manic anxiety episodes, and other slightly OCD behaviors that could only be  “cured” by a high twice daily dosage of anticonvulsant/mood stabilizers, copious drinking and constant attention from would-be-lovers.  To call them suitors would have been an insult to men who actually court women. All of this took place before through low self esteem, I met, fell in love with and married the wrong person.  That (discussed ad nauseam) relationship was five-year roller-coaster whose aftermath ricocheted through my life (and finances) longer than the marriage itself. 

My Favorite Girl in the World

I know I often say that certain things give me life, but there is only one woman who can say that she ACTUALLY did it. Yaaaaaaaaas girl, YOU DID THAT.

Then You'll Be Free

So I'm "dating" again.  I put it in quotes cause in my mind, until you're hitched or planning to get hitched, you're basically dating. I don't believe in half assing when I do something so I have dusted off and broken out my dog & pony traveling roadshow that showcases my awesomeness for the potential eligible bachelors of the world. I'm smiling as I walk down the street even in torrential downpours like what NYC had this morning, I flirt incessantly, and I maintain a positive outlook at all costs.  I don't know the terminology for what you call it when you are being open to what life, the universe, and the internet bring you. Whatever you call that, that's what I'm doing. Being open without being easy I guess, and learning about myself in the process.

#111504 SAVE ME! SOMEBODY SAVE ME!!!

Protect me from myself
save me from my own vices
my own social ills that force me
to ignore and not appreciate that
which i love above all else
help me!
help me abolish self doubt and criticism
ban impatience and frustration
open me completely to love
as freely as i feel inside
allow me to embrace you as i have my own body

protect me

be my shield and i will be your sword
i am by your side
in the palm of your hand

you possess me
you inspire me
you enthrall me
you distract me

protect me
help me

eternally
ethereally

i don't have to hunt for the rhyme and verse in any pen
'cause we exist in a place of
free verse
we exist on planes where our caresses become songs
where our embraces are dances
all words traded between our tongues
are sure to be transcribed
into every scholar's canon of love

you entice me
you inspire me
you irk me
you possess me
to step outside realms of comfort and places of safe choices
you push me to the outer edges of my existence
wanting to die suddenly
only to be reborn to rediscover how delicious you felt the first time
lascivious, lustful thoughts make me
want to run naked in the rain
only to stumble upon you on a sidewalk
and be subjected to your kindness

The Mean Reds

I woke up today with the mean reds.

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?

Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?

Holly Golightly:     No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what

you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling -Breakfast At Tiffany's

I had absolutely no REAL reason to have the mean reds, I but I did.  Despite spending the last Friday night of 2012 JUST as I wanted to, (RAWR) I woke up this morning and felt a sadness I could not explain. All morning/early afternoon I felt weepy. Nothing untoward happened.

Maybe it's 'cause I had just enough to drink last night to feel something, but not be drunk. 

Maybe it's cause I stayed up almost until dawn.  

Maybe it's 'cause I woke up too early.

Maybe it's 'cause last night's full moon ALWAYS throws my hormones out of wack.

Maybe it's 'cause it was snowing outside today and then it turned into awful cold rain instead. 

Damn You George Michael.

I've been carrying this piece around for the last three years. I've written and rewritten it. Edited it, cut it. Today I figured I should just put it out there and be done with it so that another holiday season doesn't slip through my fingers without me posting it. Happy Holidays!

I love the holidays. I overdo it, because I come from a celebratory tribe. Mommy loves to entertain and Daddy loves to shop/gift. When I was a toddler, I recall a "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus" party thrown by my parents so that I may know the true meaning of Christmas. Later when we moved to DC, Christmas became an even more elaborate affair. Christmas Eve we'd head over to our aunt's house for one of the premier holiday events of DC's social scene. The next morning, my brothers and I would wake up to find various quadrants of the living room assigned to each of us and draped in everything we asked for. As the eldest, it fell upon me to become  Daddy's elf.  I was our family's holiday quality control.  With me on Team Santa, we always got EXACTLY what we wanted. 

Christmas Day always meant brunch of grits, fried oysters and crab claws, scrambled eggs with scallions, biscuits and coffee.  Later in the day, we'd put on our Christmas outfit, and drive out to the boondocks for Christmas dinner with family friends aka Thanksgiving pt deux.

I don't really remember what Christmas was like after my parents split up.  Traditions were shattered, friends and family divied up, lines in the sand drawn.  In undergrad, there were more than a few times that I simply didn't go home. It was easier to pretend that nothing was wrong or that nothing had changed if I just stayed away from home 'cause being there would just be a sore reminder of all the stuff we weren't doing anymore.

When I became grown, I decided that the best way to beat the holiday blues was to create my own traditions, thus, my annual Holiday Party was born.  I decorate, buy and cook too much food, too much booze, and fill up my prewar one bedroom with as many people as can show up in the hopes of erasing the years that there was no Christmas for me.

And then I got married. 

#61112

she never knew that he really existed.
so much of her time was spent focusing on trying to make do in a life without him
then she stumbled upon him by accident and what a fall it was.
some people go through life without ever being touched in special places
the way that she has over and over and over again.
each time,
she gets better at being someone's woman,
though she's never been his.
each time,
her lover gets better at being her man,
though he's never been hers.
she told him he was her partner and the world turned into hues of purple spilling over with her passion.
never had so simple a word blossomed and stained the world so exqusitely.
she stares at him when he's inside her.
she takes all of him in and glows magentas and pinks.
flowers burst through her skin when he touches her.
the purr in his voice makes her shine like stars on clear nights.
he makes her shine.
she'd gotten dull and almost varnished by those who'd tainted her with their ill will,
and she'd loved them anyway.
love is never wasted and she loved to love.
she loved being in love.
being in love suited her,
it made her beautiful.
others noticed the change in her gait,
in her smile,
in her touch.
folks would wonder what was going on in her mind.
she would see the beauty of the world and none of the flaws.
spring made her do that.
her lover made her do that.
she was unable to see the couple fighting on the block
or smell the urine in the train station.
she didn't want to keep writing about him,
but she couldn't help it.
he was in her mind,
in her heart,
in her skin,
in her sex.
loving him is both effortless and impossible to do without going crazy.
certain moments make her feel like she's not strong enough to take it.
she needs him
he needs her
making him hers was the only way things could have gone.
she never planned on releasing him,
letting him rest within her coils was the only way.

when he is not near, she longs for him and tightens with anticipation.
she wants him by her side always.
she wants to greet every morning with him and close out every night wrapped in his embrace.
she doesn't want to know life without him in it.

she had to possess him, entirely,
wrapping her limbs around him enveloping him in her cloud