the freakytype

Mad Girl's Love Song

2009-12-12T11:46:00.001-08:00

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
”
— Mad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath

2009-08-24T20:53:00.001-07:00

2009-08-10T12:25:00.000-07:00

2009-08-01T18:19:00.000-07:00

Another Michael pic ... just because

2009-07-30T15:15:00.000-07:00

the space between

2009-07-02T21:54:00.000-07:00

I could exist in the moments
In the clicks
The flashes
Those are beautiful
It’s the happenings
The scenes that play out
The movement
The passage of time
That’s ugly
It drags the rake across the sand
the scars of age are left behind
it fills the moment between the laughter
those moments we do not care to record

i'm confused?

2009-07-02T20:11:00.000-07:00

In my Freshman year in college, our Human Sexuality Professor posed the following questions and asked us to go home and think about the answer.

What makes you a man, or a woman?

What determines your gender identity?

Was it you who made the decision, or was it a decision imposed on you by society?

If you didn't know what gender (sex) you were, would you still think you're a man or a woman?

Is it your biological attributes, your genetalia (what is between your legs)- is that the true determinant of gender identity?

Some say it's nature - we just know by instinct and some say it's nurture -- what we are fed (often subliminal messages from media, society, mother dressing you in only certain colors [pink and dolls for girls, blue and trucks for boys], media depictions, gender roles (the man pays the bills; the woman is the one who should take care of the child and the home and serve the man). Annneeway.

Our professor, (who is gay - no seriously) went on to tell us a story he said was factual; about a boy, who, at the age of 3, was involved in an accident where his penis was so severely crushed, it had to be amputated. At the time, the only medical recourse for a child that young was for the parents to make a decision for gender reassignment or have a boy without a penis. They decided on the reassignment and thereafter, dressed him and raised him as a girl. They began hormone replacement medication at the age 9.
As (s)he got older, (s)he felt that something was different about her. (S)he wasn't like the other girls. Sure (s)he had boobs growing, thanks to the hormones, but was becoming increasingly depressed because inside her, she felt she was a boy, not a girl. She found out about her early childhood defect and had gender re-reassignment, becoming a male once again.

We went over the whole issue of nature verses nurture. Still, the question: What makes you a man? What makes you a woman? According to our professor,(did I mention he's GAY) anyway, he believes that gender identity is an imposition of our society, and one that we should not accept. We should decide what our gender is no matter what body we are born in. So he was saying that even though the boy in the story above couldn't have known he was a boy, nature informs you of who you are so women who are born with male body parts are the ones who should know whether they are really a boy or a girl and society shouldn't dictate that. Like -- what the fuck --anyway, he then brought a transvestite into the classroom (a man turned woman) and that just blew everything out of the water for me.

My question at open floor time to our 7 foot, blond wig, NFL line backer, transvestite guest who embraced the ideas of our professor was this: "If you do not agree that gender should be imposed on us by society, what on earth makes gender reassignment necessary? Since you claim that you don't agree with society for saying that "in order to be a woman you have to have a vagina", why did you surgically manufacture one? You've played exactly into society's hand by becoming a woman in the physical sense prescribed by society. You've played into the very same rules you set out to defy. Why would you need boobs and and vagina in order to feel like a woman, since according to what you are telling us, our genitals do not make us male or female?"

The answer: you guessed it. Dude was stuttering. STUMPED. I never got an answer. He solicited other questions and was only happy to answer the dumb blond chick with her stupid question in that annoying air-head voice "how does it feel to have a vagina!?

I think I forgot to mention that our transvestite guest was also married to a woman and forced his wife to seek professional help because she couldn't come to terms with the fact that he wanted to become a female and she would have to become a lesbian in order to please her husband who is now a woman. She has to learn to eat out a woman and call her husband Donna, and tell her friends. Yet he's acting like his wife was the crazy one. Meanwhile, my legal brain is telling me that his wife should sue his ass for taking away her dick? He also had an 18 year old son who now had to call him Mom and ... just how does he break that kind of news to his college roommate and how does he get a girlfriend who will not be worried about having two mothers-in-law (as if one wasn't bad enough) or will the poor girl always be wondering if he will turn her into a lesbian like his father did to his mom, and what will their children say to having 3 grandmothers, and will she be able to introduce his parents to her parents? I don't understand. Only a White woman or an aspiring lesbian would accept such a ludicrous proposition. In my country they would have burned down the house with both of them in it... not saying that is right -- I don't subscribe to violence against people who made choices with their own bodies but Jamaicans once used to fiercely protect the idea of FAMILY.

These are all important questions and they deserve answers. But such is school life in the USA.

As for me - I know I'm a woman...and mostly it's because of my vagina, my excessive tear ducts, and that monthly reminder, yes, I'm talking about my credit card and unreasonably high cell phone bills ... ok, and my PMS.

Michael Jackson dies .... the end of a music era

2009-06-25T17:06:00.000-07:00

I can't believe Michael died. I never cried for a celebrity before. I was in 5th grade when Thriller came out. Michael was my idol! I'm in shock. I used to tell my sisters that Michael picked me up at night when everyone was sleeping and they used to believe me. This is the end of a music era. Janet Jackson is gonna go to pieces and gain 1000 lbs. I can't believe I'm crying. I can't believe this. My first love is dead.

Sorry Farah Fawcett. Michael overshadowed your death. All she'll get is a reference. Obama comes into the Whitehouse, and all this shit has happened this year but Michael Jackson's death has overshadowed everything for me. I'm not even going to work tomorrow. I'm in mourning. Cardiac arrest did not kill Michael Jackson ... America killed Michael Jackson. America kills everything good.

2009-06-04T07:51:00.000-07:00

2009-05-24T21:06:00.001-07:00

Politics Explained.

2009-05-24T16:37:00.001-07:00

FEUDALISM: You have two cows. Your lord takes some of the milk.

PURE SOCIALISM: You have two cows. The government takes them and puts them in a barn with everyone else’s cows. You have to take care of all of the cows. The government gives you as much milk as you need.

BUREAUCRATIC SOCIALISM: You have two cows. The government takes them and put them in a barn with everyone else’s cows. They are cared for by ex-chicken farmers. You have to take care of the chickens the government took from the chicken farmers. The government gives you as much milk and eggs as the regulations say you need.

FASCISM: You have two cows. The government takes both, hires you to take care of them and sells you the milk.

PURE COMMUNISM: You have two cows. Your neighbors help you take care of them, and you all share the milk.

RUSSIAN COMMUNISM: You have two cows. You have to take care of them, but the government takes all the milk.

CAMBODIAN COMMUNISM: You have two cows. The government takes both of them and shoots you.

DICTATORSHIP: You have two cows. The government takes both and drafts you.

PURE DEMOCRACY: You have two cows. Your neighbors decide who gets the milk.

REPRESENTATIVE DEMOCRACY: You have two cows. Your neighbors pick someone to tell you who gets the milk.

BUREAUCRACY: You have two cows. At first the government regulates what you can feed them and when you can milk them. Then it pays you not to milk them. Then it takes both, shoots one, milks the other and pours the milk down the drain. Then it requires you to fill out forms accounting for the missing cows.

PURE ANARCHY: You have two cows. Either you sell the milk at a fair price or your neighbors try to take the cows and kill you.

LIBERTARIAN/ANARCHO-CAPITALISM: You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull.

SURREALISM: You have two giraffes. The government requires you to take harmonica lessons.

goodbyecaptain:

Summer vacation ...

2009-05-20T11:28:00.000-07:00

... without the vacation
I don't know why I even bother to get excited that school is closed because I'm not on vacation - I gotta work. I guess there are a few things that are good about it tho:
1) I get home when there's still sunlight
2) Finals are over - no more sweating in anxiety and I got all A's
3) I can do what I want to do, watch tv, read things that excite me

The cons are that all the stuff I neglected while studying for finals are attacking me all at once. It's a bloody massacre - laundry, bills I forgot to pay, email I didn't respond to, phone calls I haven't returned, forms I haven't completed for next school year, occasions I forgot to acknowledge, etc. I didn't forget mother's day this year - I did lift my head to send flowers to my mom (score 1 for the black sheep/ favorite child). But the other stuff ... man, I guess I can't escape it. So this is what my Summer of leisure boils down to -- catching up with my past obligations. It could be worse. I'll be going home too for a few weeks in August - sweet, sweet Jamaican sunshine. So that's something to look forward to.

You know, people always say this to me: "Why not visit Jamaica in the Winter time -- it's more special when you're taking a sunny vacation while it's cold in New York. Why leave heat to go to heat?"

Folks, there is no logic to that at all. It doesn't matter what season it is here. Heat in New York and Heat in Jamaica are two different things. I can't explain it. If I drink a Corona in Jamaica it even tastes different. And I will go to Jamaica when Hell freezes over too - that's Winter, for those of you who didn't know that Hell actually does freeze over annualy, from October to May and it's located North East on the American map.

Happy summer all! I'll be working on my tan!

his side of the story

2009-05-17T21:04:00.000-07:00

Hassan the potter - by N.M rashid

Jahanzad, down in the street before your door
Here I am, burnt-out Hassan the Potter
This morning in the bazaar when I saw you
At old Yusuf the perfumer’s shop
In your glance was that brilliance
I’ve longed for, wandering nine years in madness
During that time
I never looked back
At my ailing pots -
Pots formed by my deft hands,
Lifeless creatures of clay, color, oil glaze
They whispered:
“Where is Hassan the Potter now?
He left us, his own creations
He created us, then turned away like the gods!”

Jahanzad, nine years passed for me
As time would pass in a buried city;
Clay in the clay-vats
With its fragrance that used to ravish me
Lay stone-hard
Flagon and flask, jug and cup, candlestick, vase
Props of my trivial life, of my art
Lay broken
I myself, Hassan the Potter, mud-mired, dusty-haired, naked
Beside my wheel, hair disheveled, head on knees
Like some grieving demigod, from fantasized
Clay-and-nothing I molded pliant pots out of dreams.

Jahanzad, nine years ago
You were a child, but you knew
That I, Hassan the Potter
Had seen in your talisman eyes, your sky-warming eyes
Brilliance
Which made my body and soul an open road
For cloud and moon

Janhanzad, the dream-colored Baghdad night
That bank of River Tigris
That boat, the boatman’s closed eyes
For a worn-out, grief-burdened potter
One night was the charged amber
His static being clings to, even now.
His soul, his shape
But that night’s flavor was a river-wave in which
Hassan the Potter sank and has [never] come up.

Jahanzad, in those days, day after day
That ill-starred woman came
When she saw me by the wheel, mud-mired, head on knees
She shook me by the shoulders -
(that wheel which had been, year after year, my life sole prop!)
she shook me by the shoulders:
“Hassan, look at your desolate house
how will the children’s hollow stomachs be filled?
Love-struck Hassan
Love is a rich man’s game
Hassan, look around at your house!”

In my ears this mournful voice was like
A call to a drowning man in whirlpool.
Those heaps of tears were flower-beds, no doubt
But I, Hassan the Potter, lived among ruins
In a fantasy-city where not
A voice, a movement
A flying bird’s shadow
Not a trace of my life existed.

Jahanzad, here now in your street
Here in the cold-colored darkness of night
I stand before your door
Head and hair disordered
From the window those spell-drowned talisman eyes
Glance at me once again
Time, Jahanzad, is the wheel on which like flagon and flask, cup,
candlestick, vase
Humans are made and unmade
I am a human but
Those nine years that passed in the mold of grief!
Hassan the Potter is now a dust-mound without
Even a hint of moisture.

Jahanzad, this morning in the bazaar
At Yusuf the Perfumer’s shop, your eyes
Spoke once again
Their brilliant mischief
Calls forth again in the dust-mound a quiver of wetness
Perhaps to turn the dust to clay
Who knows the scope of longing, Jahanzad, but
If you want, I'll go back to being
That potter whose pots
Were the pride of every house and street, city and town
Whose pots shone in the homes of rich and poor
Who knows the scope of longing, Jahanzad, but
If you want, I will go back to my forsaken pots
To the dried-out vats of clay-and-nothing
To the props of my life, my art
So from this clay-and-nothing, color and oil glaze,
I can again strike sparks
That light up the ruins of hearts.

[A Translation]

Janet's tit in court again

2009-05-09T17:30:00.000-07:00

Yes - once again, good old tax-payer's money is going to the Supreme Court to defend the titigate scandal of 2004. Intriguing. The country is ass broke, so in order to stimulate the economy of the lawyers and judges, they gonna take rich ass Janet Jackson to court with our money because her tit fucked up on prime time tv. The horror. What they are aiming to prove is that the tit didn't inadvertently escape but was deliberately released in a contrived scheme to make white people go blind.

I can't believe that one black tit could spark so much controversy. The media is so obnoxious and hypocritical. Janet's tit is like a bomb that went off in a crowded marketplace. Yet a few years ago I remember eating my damn dinner at 8pm when a Sex in the City's episode aired, where Samantha was eating out a woman and they showed when she lifted her head from between the woman's legs and the cum shot landed on her mouth. I almost puked in my curry chicken. So what's the big deal that Janet's tit got some "air time"(mind you, the nipple was covered). Oh yes, it was wholesome white American family event and viewership was global.

So hell damn what? Now we have to see just white old ass country western and rock bands from the caveman days. But being that the sport is dominated by Black athletes and it would come off as racially biased to totally deny Black artists from performing, the only black performers who will ever be able to perform at the Superbowl will be the ones who don't rap hip hop - like the crispy cream Prince, and people not in the mainstream yet, and people who don't dance. Oh, and Jennifer Hudson got to sing the Star Spangled Banner. Not like I want to see hip hop but I'm just saying the obvious, because it needs to be said.

2009-04-22T21:35:00.000-07:00

2009-04-05T18:31:00.000-07:00

I'm beginning to suspect that I may need anger management sessions. I blew up on my mother lastnight, and this morning, I blew another fuse on the man today -- for no good reason... well - here's what happened....he told me he was taking my jeep to check the tires and I asked him to take my tennis shoes off the top, where I rested them to get some sun after they were washed. I should have put them in the back yard on top of the patio table, but noooo, I had to be eccentric and put them on top of the jeep.

So anyway, as he is walking out the back door, I told him to take them off. I'm standing in the kitchen, seasoning dinner and looking out the window at the sunshine -- ok - I was looking at his ass - he has the sexiest walk too, ANYWAY - what do you think he did? He went straight into the car and drove away with my shoes on top. I ran out the door screaming his name as he drove away and he just kept driving and I just kept yelling, before I realized the windows were still up. I felt the distinct feeling that all my neighbors were looking out their windows thinking we had a fight and he was leaving and I was trying to call him back but he just dissed me. That's probably what got me even angrier.

So when he got back, and miraculously, my sneakers were still on top, I was still so mad,I kept yelling at him, telling him how stupid that was. He was sick of hearing it. I don't know why I wouldn't stop. I got louder and louder. He's such a gentle person, he wouldn't even respond, except to tell me softly to calm down. I still kept going. He jumped on his motorcycle and rode out. I'm going to eat a lot of ice cream tonight. I don't know what else to do. My mom isn't speaking to me either. My dad told me this morning that I need to apologize, even tho she's the one who pissed me off all the way from London on an overseas call. Oh lord. I don't know what to say. Is "Sorry" ever enough. Can I just say "Sorry" - or am I going to have to genuflect for like a month. I'm not in the mood to apologize. I think I should just lay low for a few weeks. Whatever.

Hello Goodbye

2009-04-03T19:20:00.000-07:00

Now that we’ve met – I can’t wait to hate you,
to wish you had never been born, to want to hurt you but not really,
to hang up the phone on you, and cry whenever I hear your name,
to hate this song that’s playing right now at this very moment
we’re looking across the room deep into each others' eyes for the first time, and I can’t wait to get over you.
It will mean you have loved me until the love was done.
I want it anyway.

sometimes a girl's gotta get outta the house

2009-03-27T18:52:00.001-07:00

its always summer in the clubs

forgiveness is the new sin

2009-03-17T05:52:00.000-07:00

Its so disgusting to see the same pictures of Chris Brown and Rihanna on the news and watch the way they continue to attack him. And now they're attacking them both, because Rihanna has apparently forgiven him. Isn't that very human of her? So, now forgiveness is a sin? In a way, he deserves it because let's face it, it was extremely stupid for him to do what he did - regardless ... and the thing that really got me was the bite -- like, who is he, Mike Tyson? But anyway, leave these kids alone - they're both young and landed into lives that their systems are barely prepared for.

But one thing these young black superstars need to realize is how quickly the world is willing to rip you back down from the pedestal. Examples: Michael Vick, Michael Jackson, Mike Tyson (the Mikes), Kobe, Plaxico, Janet Jackson, - you name them. The public is not trying to protect celebrities... especially black ones.

They're so outraged by Chris Brown - meanwhile I see no outrage when these sick white kids are going buck wild and shooting up their families and shooting up schools. It's always that they sympathize with the families for their loss and they try to find out why the young man was so depressed and what led to his depression...poor soul.

Why don't you all get enraged about the following and play them over and over again. People who shot up their family members over the last few weeks -- Here are the real cases of domestic abuse:

1. The gunman who committed the worst mass shooting in Alabama history. The 28-year-old gunman would kill three more people, including his 74-year-old grandmother, before heading to Geneva, where he would ultimately take his own life in a standoff with police. Eleven people died in the rampage, which lasted less than an hour and started with the killing of his mother in neighboring Coffee County. Oh they said he was depressed... oh my.

2. MIAMI -Police say a man who fatally shot his estranged wife and three other people at a weekend party also tried to blow up his neighborhood by placing gas cans and propane tanks around his apartment before setting it afire.

3. WARRENSVILLE HEIGHTS, Ohio -The funeral for five family members gunned down in their Cleveland home last week included 2-year-old twin boys, who shared a casket. The shooter, Crawford, who later killed himself, was the husband of one of the victims.

Ban on Daggering = Death to Jamaican Radio Stations

2009-03-12T08:03:00.000-07:00

In an interview Ed Lover on Power 105 radio, Beenie Man, King of Jamaican Dancehall, was asked to speak on the Jamaican government’s recent ban on all dancehall songs with lyrics that need to be censored. The ban stipulates that all dancehall songs that have lyrics which need to be bleeped, will be completely banned from air play. Basically, that’s every single dancehall song! Even Sean Paul’s upper-crust style of dancehall like,” Just Gimme the Light” makes reference to “dro”. Dro is short for Hydro which is slang for weed. Even if he said “pass the Draw” Draw and Dro are both slang for weed. It is sometimes bleeped although it is passable. Will they stop playing King Sean Paul’s songs too – even though he attracted so many new tourists to the island when he busted out on MTV a few years ago. Or will the Jamaica government become as usual hypocritical – bowing to the fair-skinned and dissing the darkies of dancehall. Beenie Man’s response is [and I paraphrase] “the Jamaican government don’t do nothing for we (the dancehall artists),we make the music, we aid the Jamaican economy without any input from them, and we will sing what we want because what we sing is reality. They cannot stop us.”

Ed Lover went on to ask him what the dancehall artists will do. To this Beenie responded that they will form a cooperative and start their own radio station and will release all their music to the pirate radio stations … basically, they will go underground. Jamaican dancehall is suffering the same fate as hip hop in the 80s, and their response will be the same –they will go underground. There is a huge difference to the underground of the 80s. With the proliferation of the internet, and youtube, and free music websites willing to freely promote artists, and the artists own ability to self-promote, Dancehall music will fare far better than hip hop did in the 1980s.

I’m sort of proud of the response to fight against censorship. It’s an intelligent, artistic revolt. I understand the government’s need to clamp down on the dirty lyrics on radio because the whole country has become so degenerate, but I don’t believe that answer is to make the artists suffer the consequences of irresponsible radio disc jockeys. The radio stations should be fined heavily, and there should be certain late hour rules where that type of music can be played after a certain hour… and still with the bleeps. There should not just be this blanket policy. What will happen is the radio stations will lose listenership and in turn, they will lose sponsors. The pirate radio stations will become legit, with the sponsors moving to them. This is so mafia.

The response of the government to shut everything down mostly because of the few recent examples of gross abuse of artistic freedom (aka – daggering as in Rampin Shop, Vybz Kartel’s over the top triple X rated song, on Neyo’s Miss Independence beat). Equally harmful, (although admirable in the artist movement/ rebellion sense) the artists’ response to completely disrespect the government, is a poor example to the younger generation. It can only lead to further anarchy in a country of people who have little regard or respect for authority and human life.

wasn't it the other way around ...

2009-03-11T06:14:00.000-07:00

When the same thick lips were on black people, they were called nigger lips. They were ridiculed and used to describe blacks. now it's chic? Even though Kerry Washington has prettier thick lips, they don't refer to her as an example of beautiful lips.

amazing. It's the same thing that they did with the Jennifer Lopez big butt business. When it's on black people, it's not cool. What a warped society we live in. Anyway, on my lunch break I have to pick up some lip plumper and some ass cheeks.

the anal stimulus package

2009-03-10T16:22:00.001-07:00

Imagine these hardcore, cold-hearted bastards have some nerve to be begging for a bailout and are still calling my phone, telling me I'm late with my credit card payment. Always stretching their hands out, while the other hand is raising interest rates and adding finance charges as they have a mind.

Now I'm forced to talk politics once again, something I try very hard to avoid here, but it's hard to avoid it when my phone is ringing as early as 8:20 on a Saturday morning, and as late as 9pm at night. These credit card banks are relentless with their computerized collection system. Which number do I press to tell them to go fuck themselves. That is also an option! Right now, my phone is ringing, and they get slicker and slicker every time, because I took the $7. a month voicemail off my home phone, so they can't leave a message, and they don't have my cell number... they try to call "unavailable". A friend of mine who knows somebody, who knows somebody, who knows something 'bout it, told him that they even have a system to capture a number from your caller ID (like your mom's number or your office) and call you with that number so you might answer it if you think it's someone else calling... as if I answer calls from any of those numbers on a Saturday morning either. Bastards!

So anyway, first, let's look at how slick the whole proposal of the bailout/stimulus package is, and why it means the banks get it all anyway. Giving each taxpayer a stimulus check for a few hundred dollars, only means we will in turn give these same stimulus checks right back to the same banks, in the form of partial payment on our credit card debts, loans, and mortgages, etc., or even as a savings deposit.

This means the banks will be receiving, not only the bailout package made for them from our tax dollars, but also every single dollar of the stimulus package made for us ordinary main street fools. Anyone who ever did economics or finance in college, knows that the lending system allows banks to re-lend the majority of ALL deposits, and only reserve a small percentage as required by the Federal Bank. This means that every dollar of all these packages, regardless of what it is earmarked for - every dime will still make its way back to the banks, so they can turn around and lend it back to us at a ridiculous interest rate (no batteries included). Do I need to repeat the fact that that the bailout and stimulus packages, are coming from our taxes which supplied the budget in the first place.

So, in a nutshell, for those of you who want it in plain English:

first they fuck us (1 = fuck x you and me)
then they fuck us again, (2 = fuck you and me x 2)
then and after that, they just sodomize us, without Vaseline (3 = ass rape you and me x 3)

Then,they smoke a cigarette in their wife-beaters, and tell us not to cry, because it's not for their benefit, but for ours; because they're not really enjoying it. How very Chris Brown of them - (sorry Chris, you know I love you).

Anyway, here's my answer to the stimulus package bullshit ... it's a simple equation that doesn't require a calculator or any cash out of pocket or a dildo ... the only way for us to be the toppers (gay speak) and not the receivers, is if President Obama would tell these bank jerks to bend over for one to two months, and not let anyone earning below $200,000 per household, make any car loan, mortgage, rent, students loans, and especially car insurance payments(since insurance is the most fraudulent industry of them all - because if I drive until I'm 100 years old and never have an accident, I will never get a cent back).

So strap that on for size -- just two months of no bills, even one month, will mean we can all catch our breaths and save weeks of salaries so we can get back on top of our game, because I don't like people calling me at night, and I don't like taking it up the ass from strangers.

President Obama - that includes you. I voted for you, but please don't let me eat my vote.

...one love

2009-02-23T20:15:00.000-08:00

That phrase - "the less fortunate" - both conceals and exposes the real truth: that life in a world ruled by finance capital is a lottery, a matter of chance, fortune, of luck rather than ability or work. - John Maxwell (Professor and Environmentalist at the University of the West Indies (UWI) Jamaica.

...

2009-02-22T12:08:00.000-08:00

"First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win" - Mohandas K. Gandhi.

Chris Brown vs Rihanna -- ding! ding! ding!

2009-02-20T06:40:00.000-08:00

I don't usually weigh in on these types of issues -domestic abuse is not my area of expertise -- I only know that whenever the term is used it refers to a male being the perpetrator of some ass-kicking and a female being the victim of said ass-kicks.

It's times like these that I'm happy I don't have to see the comments at the end of my rants - because what I'm about to say right now may make me seem anti-feminist, or worse, completely misogynistic. One thing is true; although I'm a woman, and I don't have much love for the female specie, I think I can manage being objective and fair and I'll be able to use this Chris Brown vs Rihanna story to illustrate a picture of the inequities that persist in this "equal opportunity" world of ours.

Ok- without further ado, let me just say that what always grieves me is a damn double standard, wherever it exists. That's like my biggest peeve, because the thing is, (and I'm not defending Chris Brown - i don't know what he actually did - none of us were there, so for now, this stays in my unsolved mysteries / hearsay file) ... women get away with so much shit. Look at the following scenarios with me, if you will:

1. Had Chris Brown beat some guy to the same degree as those pics of Rihanna claim to represent, the guy would have pressed charges and the whole thing would have amounted to celebrity fodder and Chris would have gone to court, been sued for assault, and rise from it "Tha Man!" (example rapper, T.I. vs Lil Flip and T.I. vs Ludakris' manager, and T.I. vs that guy in the audience who threw a cup on stage at T.I. while he was performing) - T.I. incidentally performed his latest new hit "Live Your Life" with Rihanna at the 2008 MTV Music Award show - see.

Chris Brown definitely would not have lost his endorsements if he had walked in T.I.'s shoes and beat up a guy, actually, he might have picked up a Wheaties endorsement or Vitamin Water. The other guy would have been called a bully who should be glad Chris went so easy on him -"Chris must have been defending himself" . Gals and gays everywhere would flock to see his shows because like "that was sooooo SEXY", he's a legitimate "BAD BOY", "that's like waaaaay hot" and the victim would have been considered a "sissy boy" who messed with Chris Brown. People would send the guy hate mail and death threats (unless the guy was another hot celebrity). OK, and whereas the bruises on Rhianna were called "Contusions" (they had to use a big, legit medical term an' shit) on the guy in my example, they would have said "oh, please, it's not like he died, he's lucky all he got was a few knots on the head - some minor scratches." That's American Media 101.

2. Had Chris Brown been a low level celebrity and Rihanna a pseudo celebrity herself, we would have heard about it only briefly, and only if the media was starved for news-worthy material -- only to spear them from showing that story again, you know, the one with the monkey breastfeeding the tiger cub (or was that Salma Hayek? i forget). Then the story would have blown away on the next wind that came along. For sure, it wouldn't have made the news more than say 1 to 2 days.

3. And this is my BIGGEST BEEF -- (drum-roll please) -- Had Rihanna beat up Chris Brown, she would not have lost any of her endorsements, she would have been able to go back on stage and women everywhere would make her concerts sell out and her celebrity would have increased 10 fold because it would have been seen as woman power.

Besides, Rihanna is a Caribbean woman -- she doesn't have to lift a finger to kick a man's ass; all she has to do is open her mouth and lash him with that Afro-Caribbean tongue(speaking from knowledge).

I don't have any examples to point to right now -ok, what about Liza Minelli allegedly beating up her husband David Gest -bet you don't remember that one - so there's some proof. I don't have to research it to prove what I'm saying - I know I'm right, and most of you out there know what I'm talking about too.

If Rihanna does not become the poster child for Abused Women everywhere - and sell out all her upcoming shows (especially the first one she does after this) then I don't know what I'm talking about.

As Jamaicans will tell you "donkey seh, di world nuh level".

2009-02-06T17:00:00.000-08:00

2009-02-06T10:30:00.000-08:00

it’s so hard just seeing you
now that we can’t even touch
and I wish I could explain to you
but words are not worth much
‘cause this truth is not for telling
nouns and verbs all strung together
no, it’s not the kind for spelling
not the kind to put in letters
it’s a rhythm in my tongue
and the dance of fingertips
and the language of my eyes
when your kiss is on my lips
when you feel it then you’ll know
in the language of the soul
when I write upon your body
then our love can break the code

2009-02-05T16:53:00.000-08:00

tell me lies ... tell me sweet little lies

2009-02-05T16:16:00.000-08:00

My college has a new format for the first class of each course of each semester.
We have to write a two to three page essay introducing our self. The title is "Who am I?"

Boy - this one threw me. It's worse than an exam. I feel unprepared. I was so upset. I wrote and deleted so many times. If I had to hand-write it on paper, I would have been surrounded by crushed balls of useless pages that missed the overflowing garbage bin.

Such a simple question, and yet it has taken a week and still ... nothing. Try it yourself if you think it's easy.

Who the fuck am I? You're not the things you do each day. And if not, then what makes you who you are?!

I'm confused! Inconsistent! Indecisive!

In the end I think someone else should write this essay. Someone who spends a lot of time with me. You're only what you are to people. I can't see myself. And yet I'm afraid to ask the person closest to me. He has to lie! He's too sweet to tell me the truth -- unless he likes pain. So who? Who? No - not Mommy. I don't want to hear that story from when I was just born until now. And Dad is no good at hurting me either. Men will never tell me the truth if it's bad. And my siblings, forget it, they're carrying way too much rivalry.

There's only one thing to do ... I'm just going to make up a story. That's it. A story I can live with.

love me for who i am ... and then tell me who i was to you.

2009-01-27T12:13:00.000-08:00

2009-01-24T20:26:00.000-08:00

December 2008. what will 2009 bring. I hope to maintain this smile-- well, that's the plan so far. I have no other New Year's resolution. This is it - I resolve to smile - even when I'm not taking a picture - to be positive, even when all is chaos. Quit my bad habits? - uhm ... lets just take it slowly - I work with assholes, I'm stressed at school and really, I only have one bad vice - legalize it. That's one thing I wish Obama had on his agenda - make me happy -- make it legal to be a hippie. Lord knows some of us need it.

How can one get thru the bullshit of this New York life without a vice?

Anyway - right now, I'm reading Ralph Ellison's "Invisible Man" OMG - this book is awesome! AMAZING! I don't know how it's gonna mix with Calculus, Behavioral Psych and Logistics but - well, I guess I'll have to find a way to fit it in.

Tomorrow I'm going to see Charlie Murphy at Caroline's Comedy Club in NYC on Broadway. So that's more laughs for me.

...

2009-01-21T11:49:00.001-08:00

... be still my beating heart

2009-01-20T18:19:00.000-08:00

from one of the only times when a 4-week holiday feels like just 7 days
back to where 16 weeks feel like 1 year
to searching for parking even though I paid $60. for a parking tag
the long treks across the windy,cold, dark campus
the lame pick-up lines from guys cruising the halls of the University
the praying for snow cancellations
to long days: 8 hours at work 6 hours at school
to long nights stressing over unreasonably long homework
to boring, egotistical professors who need to be constantly stroked
to paying $200.00 for 1 textbook and still having to spend hours in the library anyway
to unprepared students asking to borrow notes, pens, paper, or to see your textbook
to vending machines that swallow my last $ in empty halls where there's noone to help
to hunger sounds coming from deep inside all of us
to meeting more people you do not wish to know
to 1st Term Exams
then the Midterms
to sudden friends who want to study with you for whatever reason
to the Term paper
to promising to hook up for drinks after Finals
to making sure never to see any of those people socially once school closes for the next holiday

one had a dream ... one lives the dream

2009-01-19T12:08:00.000-08:00

THERE ARE NO WORDS, ONLY TEARS OF SATISFACTION

...

2009-01-15T07:21:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I found a box in my closet, filled with a whole bunch of stuff I had rested in there temporarily while I was pretending to Spring-clean last Summer. I was amazed. How is it that I didn't even notice that they were missing ... for a whole year?! Why don't I care about anything? I never use anything I get as gifts. I keep telling people to give me gift cards or only buy me what I specify -- and still some Einstein tries to be clever and "surprise" me - cheap ass motha_...anyway, with all this crap I could open a bloody store --maybe I'll call it "Filthy Useless Krap" or FUK for short.

Hmmm, anyway what about the shit that I bought,-who can I blame for all these packs of Nancy Drew postcards and packs of glo-sticks (what the hell do I need glo-sticks for?) and curly straws -(do I have to drink everything from a curly straw), and tons of file folders (oh no, wait, I stole those from the office) and what about these packs of pens and index cards (ok -I need those for school I guess) but there are loads of other crap that I don't even remember buying -honestly, I probably just stole all that shit. maybe I'm just a kleptomaniac which would explain why I don't remember buying them.

Well - I'm a little relieved...It's not so bad. For a minute there I thought I was becoming an American, but no, I'm just a thief. I'd rather be a kleptomaniac than a damn consumerist. I only steal stationery anyway, from work, and from my parents' office. Ok - either way, I'm going to take a really long, hard look at everything I have that I haven't used in the last 12 months and instead of ignoring them I'm going to get rid of them completely... that includes people. Those of you who clog my address book, people I haven't spoken with in years who only send me forward internet jokes and chain letters - you'll be the first ones to go.

And other people in general - if I haven't used you in the last 12 months, you know what to do; enlist in the Salvation Army.

...

2009-01-14T16:16:00.001-08:00

2009-01-08T12:08:00.000-08:00

Ok - I lost my phone again. Anyone who is, or has been trying to reach me, please email my @msn account if it's urgent. I'm really tired these days. I'm sure my phone is just in one of my coat pockets but I refuse to look for it ... please don't take it personally that I haven't answered your calls.

This may seem selfish to you but the truth is, I HATE PHONES and the only reason I have a phone is for MY OWN convenience, so that I can use it when I need to. I'm sorry but I realize how much productive time and money I've wasted on the phone with (you don't know who) and the CRAZIEST thing is this, when that person and I are together at my house, we don't talk at all ... What gives. ... what gives!

anyway, my post-christmas gift to myself is to be as lazy and selfish as I can possibly be for the entire month of January until school resumes on January 26. So, please pardon my pursuit of pleasure. If it's any consolation, I'm still working 5 days a week so you don't have to be too envious.

2009-01-08T09:06:00.000-08:00

No - right now Obama cannot afford to address the history of the problem between Palestinian Hamas and Israel. When you're a President, you are constantly put on the spot. It's all about diplomacy, it's all about not showing your hand, especially when you plan to run for a second term and the media wants to hold you accountable for every word that escapes your mouth. And most importantly, a strong nation needs strong allies. America can't afford to side with a country that is militarily weak. Palestine is weak. They can't back America in a war. And they're not smart; they provoked a stronger nation. Israel responded the way one would respond to a mosquito; you don't catch it in a cup and put it outside; you fucking slap it dead. I'm not taking any side, I'm not pro Israel or Hamas. But I know we all talk a lot of shit about America - we thought it was wrong to invade Iraq but now it's okay to intervene into Israel affairs? We want to be rich and happy but we don't want America to do what it has to do to maintain the lifestyle we're so accustomed to. It's just reality. I'm not sad about it - I'm human. As long as it doesn't affect me, I limit my care. But since the argument came up about 7 times today... this is what I think. You want your iPods and your shiny new Benz and the parties and the cable tv, are you willing to part with them to make the whole world happy? If you have a mansion and all the rooms are freezing cold except one, if you open the door to share the heat, that room will go cold too, then what; every body suffers.

...

2009-01-07T17:21:00.001-08:00

You were gone
Sun behind my eyes
And they tell me I’m alive
just because my heart is beating

Your back turned
Your footsteps weak
And they tell me I’m alive
just because I'm still breathing

...

2009-01-05T08:51:00.000-08:00

why do I only pay attention to pain? I mean, thousands of emotions sweep through me daily and yet I never question why I'm smiling or why I feel great but the moment something hurts, I spend days feeling it. One bad feeling in 10,000 and I give it my entire day, sometimes weeks. If something doesn't hurt me I don't give it a thought. Only things that hurt are real to me. I feel that there's a lesson in the things that reach my core and in order for something to enter my core, it has to dig its way in, and that takes pain. Happiness and joy are surface, pain is profound, deep. But this year, I will make an effort to feel the good stuff more than the bad. ... well - i'll try.

— Bradley Whitford

2008-12-28T21:26:00.000-08:00

Fall in love with the process and the results will follow. You’ve got to want to act more than you want to be an actor. You’ve got to want to do whatever you want to do more than you want to be whatever you want to be, want to write more than you want to be a writer, want to heal more than you want to be a doctor, want to teach more than you want to be a teacher, want to serve more than you want to be a politician. Life is too challenging for external rewards to sustain us. The joy is in the journey.

2008-12-27T22:02:00.000-08:00

I think at first you were sorry for breaking my heart, then you were flattered when I said I still love you, and now, I think you just secretly enjoy that I’m in pain from missing you.

Finals are Finally Final

2008-12-19T16:38:00.000-08:00

Happy? holidays

2008-12-18T21:23:00.000-08:00

So my family is coming for the Christmas holiday. This means it is not a holiday but an occasion to put in more hours of labor for no pay. But I'm happy they're coming. It means extra towels and more food to be bought; But I'm happy they're coming. Parents do not ask when they can come to your house; they call and TELL you they're spending the holiday with you. But I'm happy they're coming. This means new sheets, pillows and an adjustment to my lifestyle- But I'm happy they're coming. This means I have to take out the good plates and hide the porno - But I'm happy they're coming. This means endless cooking and washing dishes and buying gifts i had not planned to buy including gifts for those they return to back home; But I'm happy they're coming. Did I mention they changed their flight to get in at 10am Saturday morning instead of afternoon and my final exam is Friday night and I don't get out of that till 10pm. But I'm happy they're coming?

So I didn't know how to ask them when they're leaving but i eventually did; the 4th of January. This means technically I'll be treated like a child for 2 weeks. Jesus Christ!

a box of shit

2008-12-16T12:09:00.000-08:00

Forest Gump said “life is like a box of chocolates”, but my life is like an unreliable car. Some days it's an up-hill push, and some days it purrs smoothly down the street; today I'm pushing.

I knew the whole day would be messed up from the moment my body refused to cooperate with my spirit and roll me out of bed. I drank too much wine lastnight and this morning I just wanted to go back into my dream.

I tried to slow the clock by strategically planning how to make up the time on the road.

The snooze button was a like a pimp, taking more than it really gave. "Well," I asked myself, "what’s the point of getting up and standing in front of the closet for another half hour?" Naturally the only obvious thing to do is spend the time in bed thinking about what I’m going to wear so I don’t end up standing in front of the closet door doing the same thing, or sitting on the toilet brushing my teeth and staring into space for half an hour.

Well, wouldn't you know it, I fell asleep thinking about what to wear and I dreamed I was dressed and at work and my cell phone was ringing, but it sounded like my home phone. Holy SHIT! When I woke up, it was really late and the office was calling. I didn't pick up. I wondered if I should call back and call in sick since our office policy seems to be "better never than late" - but today was our Christmas lunch at Vincent's Italian restaurant - so I sprung from the bed, took a whore shower, grabbed anything my hand touched in the closet and decided to do my hair in the car.

... but why the hell can men shave in their car, and yet no one has bothered to make a battery-operated blow dryer and curling iron or an attachment that plugs into the lighter. RRRRRR!!!

I'm so Special Ed.

2008-12-14T11:39:00.000-08:00

When I was a child, I knew there was something special about me but I just didn’t know what it was. Now that I’m older, I know what it is --- SURPRIZE! – what is special about me is that there isn’t anything special about me.
I get fucked over like anyone else
I never win the raffle or the lotto
I never get first prize
I never get the happy ending
the praise always goes to the person who worked least even when I worked the hardest,
when good stuff happens it’s always on the day I didn’t come or right after I leave

blood-sucking bats with beaks

2008-12-09T15:09:00.000-08:00

several years ago, someone bought me a pair of birds as a birthday gift. a few months later he came to visit and noticed that the cage was empty. i didn't know how to tell him that I had purposely let them go but I decided to confess. i thought he would have been angry but he just gave me a gentle hug and said he understood - he said he knows there are many people who can't bear to see beautiful birds prevented from flying, experiencing their true nature. it sounded good to me so i went with it.

but what i didn't tell him was the truth is that i just fucking hate birds … and apparently they hate me too. just because they can fly doesn’t make them any cooler than squirrels or skunks – as a matter of fact, I’ve never had a squirrel or a skunk take a shit all over my car. Everyday, there will be hundreds of cars in the parking lot, but my car seems to be carefully targeted. Birds are nothing but flying assholes who will peck out your eyes if you lay still for too long. it would honestly give me immense pleasure to go bird hunting. someone else told me i just have a fear of birds - ornithophobia - yeah, i'll go with that too.

— Pea-sized Aortas

2008-12-09T12:09:00.001-08:00

In the end, he said:
“Look, I’m a complete and utter asshole. I have a very, very small heart and I can only care for limited periods of time. 37.81 seconds, to be exact. I’ve timed it with my stopwatch. If I go over that time limit, I get dizzy and puke. I can’t care for other people. And if I wanted to love you back, I’d have to get another heart because my tiny, little one cannot support something as huge and complex as love. But I wanna try for you. Granted, I’ll probably have to gouge out someone else’s heart and add it to my own to be able to do it but I hate other people so I’m sure I’ll enjoy killing for love.”

What does one say to that?

It’s simple, really. So I answered:
“You already have my heart. So, now, love me back.”

the bone of my marrow

2008-11-28T18:04:00.000-08:00

Why do you linger on the edge of my lashes

Keeping my eyes wet with pain

Kissing me, pleading that you’re missing me

When all we were ever shaping up to be

Was a bygone era, an un-won game

Now in the bottom of my lingerie drawer

Yellowed love-letters tied together with strings

Sealed with kisses, stained with both our tears

Sprinkled with dead petals of roses you sent me

A monument to failure

A shrine to our extinction

...

Pro Choice vs Pro-Life

2008-11-27T10:16:00.000-08:00

It's not because I believe that killing a living thing is "right", but what many people don't understand is that laws do not stop at the point at which they begin. Once a laws is set in motion, it creates precedence and can apply to future cases where you cannot imaging that law could be applied. When you take away a woman's right to have abortions, you take away a woman's right to her own body. Explain why it is that a man can have a vasectomy whenever he wants, but a woman must meet certain criteria for a tubal ligation (tying of the fallopian tubes). In most states, a woman is required to already have had at least 2 children, or if she is married she must get the written, notarized consent of her spouse. What the fuck is that?!

With the exception of careless hood-rats who have abortions every Saturday morning out of fear and a general lack of responsibility for their behavior, there are countless women who have multiple abortions because they can't afford $35.00 to $60.00 a month for oral contraceptive, and that is the price "with medical insurance". Without medical insurance, the cost of oral contraception ranges from $60 to $130.00 per month. That is crazy! The better the medication is, the more expensive it is. And let's not approach the subject of condoms ... yeah, yeah - it's the man's responsibility as well, and besides oral contraception does not prevent sexually transmitted diseases. Ok. We know all that. But regardless of all this, the truth is, sex is the ultimate physical satisfaction, and you can't get that with a condom - you may as well masturbate. Let's just be real.
So we're not on the topic of disease - we're on the topic of abortions, but if we were able to terminate diseases, we would still make the choice to have great sex and terminate the disease every time, wouldn't we? If AIDS was as curable as pregnancy is, who would want to be responsible for their actions, you would just get rid of it, no? The reality is that most people want real sex without the rubbery intrusion, and if it ends in pregnancy and women lose their rights to terminate an unwanted pregnancy, they lose the right to make a decision concerning their own life, the life of the child, and the the choice of what happens inside their own body. And who do you think this affects most? Not the rich girls, but the poor women, most of whom are overrepresented in the Black community. You not only take away a sista's right, you take away the right of a brotha to not have to probably end up in the court system, jammed up for not paying some baby-momma to look after a kid he didn't want either. It's defeating. Having a Choice does not mean we will always choose to abort. And seriously, some people should never be allowed to have kids anyway.

Before you sign up to take away that right, think about the precedent you set by voting to make abortions illegal. Think carefully before you vote on issues. Those rights you remove from a woman, you also remove from some men, and that choice may not be yours today, but watch out, choices of yesterday can come back to bite you in the ass tomorrow. That same choice you make for others, can someday be used against you when you want to make some other decision about your own body.

For the record: No Daniel, I have never had an abortion. I can actually care about something that is not yet affecting me.

you mean you want me to speak to them now? ... unmedicated?

2008-11-22T22:20:00.000-08:00

your eyes flutter open --- automatic body alarm
it must be 6am. as your vision adjusts, you notice your clock is missing from the bedside table, above you is a ceiling fan spinning slowly and you don't recognize it. you freeze in terror. where are you? ok, you remember laughing in the club, spilling your drink, some girl pushed you and you pushed back, someone grabbed your hand, you both ran out the emergency exit ...laughing breathlessly ... you were kissing in the back alley outside the club, then you were in the car. there was music, his hands were everywhere, his tongue tasted like warm wine. you told him you would see him back inside, he didn't want to let you go but he did. you had to get your coat and say goodbye to your friends.

So you went back inside and someone gave you a drink. you saw your friends were on the dancefloor. you danced. but that's all you remember ... and now you're here... somewhere. you don't know where you are. your eyes move inside our head, scanning your surroundings for a clue. and though you begged to recognize something familiar, you had not hoped it would be your blue sequin dress, draped across the back of an unfamiliar chair. and now you realize you're naked. someone is whistling in the shower. you spring from the bed, your toe is caught in the sheet and you go crashing to the floor. the whistling stops, you hold your breath and an uncomfortable posture. everything is spinning and the sun is too bright, the floor is too cold. the whistling resumes. stealthily, you dislodge your toes from the grip of the sheet and spy your silver 6 inch stilettos under the bed. you cringe in horror, but there is no time for lamenting, no time to try to figure out what or whom you had done. you must move quickly to end this unfolding nightmare.
your head is pounding. there is an empty bottle of vodka on the side table. you don't have time to look for pictures. you stumble into your dress and carry your shoes in your hand. You hear the squeak of a pipe. The shower is turned off. You're already half way down the stairs. the apartment is spotless. Nice furnishings. but you can;t decide if the place belongs to a man or a woman. the decor is androgynous. you don't wanna know. within seconds you're out the door, running through the parking lot. your bare feet ache on the pavement and there's still a chill in the early morning air. you hit the sidewalk, thumb the first cab you see. and then you realize you have no purse, no phone, nothing. you hop into the cab anyway.

you tell the cabbie you have no money on you. you explain the circumstances as his eyes are gleaming all up your thighs. He tells you it's ok, you can work things out, he knows you working girls have bad nights too -- no passengers ... lol... he laughs at his own joke. you get out and slam the door and prepare for the long walk home in your sequins and stilettos. a car pulls up behind you. It's him. the man you're in-love with. he asks if you forgot he had his aunt's apartment for the weekend because she's out of town. you're flooded with relief. you laugh and tell him you were only trying to get a Sunday papers.

Fool.

one reason to love winter

2008-11-22T18:08:00.000-08:00

i changed my mind - this is the one

are we there yet??

2008-11-18T17:28:00.000-08:00

All my life, I couldn’t wait to get to the next step.
Did everything I could to get to this next step.
Broke rules to get to the next step
Broke hearts because of the next step
Dissed a lot people who didn’t respect the next step
Left a lot behind to focus on this next step
And now I’m here—On the brink of the next step
And I am terrified
because the next step requires many harder steps
And at the end of that next step
Is the step to the next step with all its steps
But if I don’t take the next step
Then that’s a waste of all the steps I’ve already taken
And that would be a step in the wrong direction
So maybe I won’t step –
I’ll
Just
Dive
In
With
My
Eyes
Closed

I wanna prolong this

2008-11-05T11:13:00.000-08:00

Most people will probably tell you they were so shocked when Obama won. I was shocked too- my entire body shook for several minutes -- I laughed, screamed, cried and cried. Then I stayed up till about 3AM watching it over and over so it could sink into my bloodstream... I never expected to be -- ?what's the opposite of disappointed? appointed? I feel like my dreams always come true for bullshit stuff but for important stuff, I just have to remain pessimistic.

Anyway Obama won - I contributed my money, my Primaries vote, and my Presidential vote and my total support. There's a lot of Republicans in my office building - you can tell by the down-syndrome - they are all totally bummed out today.

Anyway, I don't really want to sully Obama's wonderful reputation by putting him on this yuk face emo shit blog but - congratulations my brotha. I will stand with you as I have done since before the begining - and if you make mistakes, I'll still be here and I'm voting for you in 2012.

I think Obama set a new standard for future presidents. So many records broken. And I'm a part of that History.
....
....

the stages of profound hurt

2008-11-02T18:38:00.000-08:00

there are events that happen in my life that make me scream, curse, bitch, moan, sulk, sob, or cry quietly in a dark corner of my bed...

then there are the odd ones that don't give way to any of my typical reactions ... I'm left confused, as though someone had just walked up to me out of nowhere and punched me in the gut for no reason -- all the wind is knocked out of me, I'm disembodied, fragments of my former self ... no longer a person... just ashes... and my brain disengages.

everything sounds different in my ear, I understand the words people are saying to me but only in a denotative sense - dictionary meaning. I see things in my field of vision, but none of it has sensory meaning.

there are no tears, words don't come to my mouth. everything just stays stuffed way down inside me - nothing moves in or out. It feels like I swallowed something whole, that sits heavily, right in the pit of my belly.

and all that I do feel can't be described as pain ... no -- it's some new category of hurt, and I spend hours, days, sometimes weeks or months, stunned ... just ... stupefied.

i realize what is going on inside me. I am searching my database, leafing through my years, my life, every memory cell, for a reaction to something of this magnitude - but nothing that I know of is even vaguely appropriate for such a situation.

i tell myself I should be angry -- i know how to be angry -- but anger doesn't surface. I try sadness -- nothing - I run the gamut of emotions that I know how to react to, but none of them come - just more numb silence.

after a while, I start wondering if anything had really happened. maybe it didn't happen ... maybe it was one of those weird dreams that haunts you with a sense of realness - then I realize I'm in some stage of denial. It has happened, but nothing in my past experiences has equipped me to handle it.

the first time this happened to me was the first time in my life that i realized -- that i really understood, why people sometimes kill.

while we sit on our sofas, watching the news, with a warm plate of food on our laps, we cannot come to grips with why someone otherwise intelligent, with so much to lose, would choose to exchange their future for a life in prison.

but you cannot possibly know the answer to this question if you have not known that most profound hurt that your current response system fails to shelter you from.

when there is no available reaction, no appropriate response to some unrecognizable hurt, sometimes people --- not just the thug, or the insane criminal-minded; not just the psychopath, or the evil bastard, but the regular, even tempered intelligent and aware person, with a great career, a nice home, and beautiful family, who has never felt that foreign blow to the gut, --- with nothing else inside to rely on, they just unleashes a foreign response to an unfamiliar blow.

whoever is in the way, be it perpetrator of said hurt, or not, everything and everyone in the wrong place at the wrong time suffers, including them self...

but at last, they now have a familiar feeling...Regret... or Shame. And we all know how to feel those. We all have a trained, built-in response system to those familiar emotions ... even if we do not know the cure.

" a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma"

2008-11-01T15:42:00.000-07:00

I’m not a "real woman"...but this is no lament. If a "real woman" is someone who cries when the soufflé falls, mourns a broken nail, and doesn’t know what the elbow of a pipe is … then I’m not a real woman.

The only makeup I wear is cherry chapstick. I don't wear perfume, just baby oil mixed with sun-tan oil and that's my beach scent - even in the winter. I hate the salon -seriously, who has 4 hours to sit in one place ... I wash my hair in the shower and I wear my own nails short and natural, and still manage to put food on the table even though the dinnerware doesn’t match... I can still cook like a head chef.

My favorite color is midnight blue – not pink, and I don’t like shopping malls or long conversations on the phone. I don’t know the price of grocery items; I buy only what I need and worst of all offenses, I sometimes repeat an item of clothing in the same week … what horror ... isn't being pretty, and clean, and properly groomed with a healthy body and mind what matters?

I know some women are not blessed with effortless beauty, but is so much fake stuff necessary? And where does it end before you start having a fake smile, fake love, fake tears, and other fake emotions.

So anyway, what is a "real woman"? That stiff, overmanicured, embalmed, mumified bitch who can't get her hair wet and can't let you to grab her hair while you tear up the backshot? Can't open jars or change her own tire in an emergency? Can't dial a number or touch you till her nails are dry?

Congratulations ... you have a winner.

... with a cherry on top

2008-10-31T23:43:00.001-07:00

so you couldn't just give me the grade without the back-handed compliment ... geeez, you really need to get some ass: Please Professor, you know I'm the shit ... so spare me the anguish of your empty bed. I had to do this paper with my eyes closed, because unlike you, I was gettin' some.

Very well done throughout. Closer editing would help with punctuation issues. Authors of philosophical/scientific treatises should not be referred to only by their first name. The portion of your writing obtained from sources did not include the footnotes, end notes, references and quotes. Future submitals without the applicable source references will not be accepted. It surprises me that as an Honors student with as strong writing skills as yours, you seemed to have spend very little time revising or applying the standards to this piece. You are well aware of the detriment to your PBK designation. You were graded for content which was well researched, well thought out and compiled, but all your usual techniques were absent. Future assignments will not be as elementary and I will not grade you on the same scale as non honors undergrads as I have done here.

Grade: 100 out of 100 - this will also mean a 10% weight on your final grade.

Here's an ingenius idea ... how 'bout you
...
...

2008-10-31T21:49:00.000-07:00

Amazing, simple things
Like warm summer rain
Brings thoughts flooding back
Thru the eyes of the brain

Those recessed memories
Murky backed-up drains
Blending dreams of the lucid,
With visions insane

Rollercoaster, fast-forwards,
Pans a view in the distance
Directs dreams and reality,
Yet fails to measure the difference

Every action propels
This cosmic slide-show existence,
Shoots, cuts, takes life,
Takes mine for instance.
...
...

yummy ...

2008-10-29T21:00:00.001-07:00

There is something about an ex-boyfriend that makes me wild. The way he smells of nights so long ago; knowing that the only reason for touching him is to extract the ore after the impurities have all been leached … no more fights—nothing to fight about. No more expectations; no hope for repossession. The taste of newly forbidden fruit, as sweet as the first time, every single time.

The other plus side is that you can't be held liable for future activities; he can’t ask where you've been, or where you're going when you leave, or why you're such a greedy whore, or where you learned such filth in bed. And when you go to him, you know exactly what you’re getting.

Add to that, a dash of slight jealousy, and you have a recipe made in heaven … or hell-- and you can have him your way, anyway you want – rare, medium, well-done. And if you say the wrong name, hey, it doesn’t even matter.

The most perfect specimen created. The Super-ex. If ever someone could make you say the name of god and his son so many times, it's that son-of-a-bi@tch.

But there's more to an ex than the way he does what he does, he may have been a hero in your eyes at one point, and then your greatest pain in the end; the boy who broke your heart ... your cherry -- and other places inside you. I guess the best afrodesiac is finally knowing that you don't want him anymore.

i can't help myself ...

...
...

rest in peace

2008-10-29T17:17:00.000-07:00

I woke up again - 4am- sheets twisted, clinging, my body drenched in sweat.

It's you again. And always in my dreams, we're in the throes of ecstasy. My heart beating, “yes, yes, yes”, my head yelling "don't." But neither of us will say “no”.

Our kisses, ferocious, wild as the seas. Legs and arms everywhere, opening, groping, touching, grabbing, fitting body parts like puzzle pieces.

Then suddenly, we're in a boat, the paddles are broken from the oars. We look at each other. Helpless. "With what shall we row into the sunset?"

The boat splits in two; you on one side, and I on the other. Frozen in terror, we watch everything else pour into the middle.

You look into my eyes, your lips move, but your words are carried away on the wind and I do not hear you say "I love you - I always will." Then you are gone - swallowed up.

And I'm alone. Waging a futile war against the tides, thrashing, kicking angrily across the sea; I arrive, my knees crashing to the pebbled shore, slamming a fist deep into the earth. But she will not resuscitate you. I am weary - you call my name and I am dust of your dust.

What is born must be seized before it slips out of reach.

Such is the nature of dreams. Such are we, having been too foolish to realize before it is all gone.

But the past is a graveyard. Our names engraved. We lie side by side. Only here can you and I keep on living.

....

Another day in the mfkn NYC:

2008-10-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

Mom calls while so much is going on – that time of the month, and the designated asshole in my 9-5 life, C.M., tried to steal my idea and present it. I had to usurp my usurper! Then I’m asked by someone to do something I totally could not live with myself for (if you can believe I have ethical limits) and because I said “no”, I’m now being treated as though I think I’m some “goody-2-shoe” ... and I don't have a problem with that label, but like wtf!

And I have not had breakfast yet and it's 1:18pm. I know I don't eat enough but this is rediculous. My head is pounding.

In the midst of all this, my mom is on the phone in my ear– she thinks she has a crisis – she feels insulted by one of her clients – and I get that - I think what the client said was childish, but I also think her response to it is overboard, so apparently, I’m not responding in the way she wants me to, so she decides to lose her shit on me and all the while I’m trying only to calm her (as if it’s my job to make her feel better, but anyway I'm trying to be a good daughter) I just don’t think I should add more shit to her shit. I want her to look past it. But it’s undeniably clear she would prefer for me to be mad at whomever she’s mad at so we can sulk together.

My question to myself is this: How did I wake up in pre-school hell today? Shoot me.

... and once again I'm right

2008-10-28T19:47:00.000-07:00

I could never admit to being wrong - I had always found a way to be the ultimate victim. It was always so easy to totally confound you and choose a random yet plausible reason that made everything I did excusable, while at such times, in my head, a voice competed with my verbalized rebuttal, yelling "SHUT UP, AND JUST SAY SORRY!"

I knew it was that simple, but I could never adjust to looking like a fool. You see, I always fucked-up the most in the areas I should have known better - in the things that I would have kicked your ass for and told you were too obvious to miss - it would set me back 100 years to to admit to such outrageous stupidity on my own part.

I told myself there was too much at stake when all you have is what people rely on you to be. ... this person who can handle it all - who can win for everyone -- because she's so damn smart.

So now, and only here, will I finally say "IM SOOO SORRY!" -- for a multitude of fuck-ups... and then for convincing you that you were always wrong and that I was always right -- that was my biggest lie. Forgive me, and help me to be a person who can make mistakes. I am so flawed.

no news, is bad news

2008-10-25T17:12:00.000-07:00

and there's no news -- nothing but the same stress that is just not worth rehashing -- the kind of stress that leaves me silent -- you know, the kind I can't get past my lips because it's pointless and because I've whispered and I've yelled to myself about these things before and it made no difference then, so it's hardly likely to make any difference now. The result will be that it remains the same. So what's the point of complaining - when I complain I strike out to place blame and it never matters who I blame for my life, and my circumstances, tho they were set in stone from the day I was born - so no matter what's to blame, I'm the only one who has to face the consequences.

So my lips are stitched shut in a kind of frustration i can't digest. I just don't even want to hear my own voice right now- I don't want to hear it echo inside me - in the emptiness - in the still, cold, void. It won't change what's happening. And now I'm so fearful, I'm scared that any movement I make will create another unwanted reaction ... some negative ripple in the lake of tears down in this well inside me.

So I'm being still. creeping along the earth, hoping my movements will not be detected for fear life will swallow me whole. I'm like prey on a vast open safari with no hiding place... something is waiting for me to make another mistake ... waiting for a chance to pounce on my life again. I wish you would tell me you know what I'm feeling because if I can't justify these emotions I may think I'm going insane.

you don't want to know ...

2008-10-25T16:22:00.000-07:00

so if you ask me how I feel right now, I may tell you 'I'm fine'...but if I'm being honest, I will say nothing at all, and yet that would be a perfect reflection of the truth. I feel nothing.

It is not I who do not understand the circumstances; it is that part of me that cannot reason, that part that has no ears and no eyes, yet cries and cries and cries.

If the stupid thing had not broken while the wheels were still in motion, maybe we could have just powered-down before you pulled the plug. But that's the way it had to be done; the painful way; the only way you know...and why?

Because, once again, circumstances, things beyond reason, like birds with wings not meant for flying, and things with feet not meant for walking.

Things like these make no sense to me at all, and like you, they don't answer the question "why?"

The check is in the mail ...

2008-10-24T12:20:00.000-07:00

Some neanderthal almost drove me off the road today, in his nasty, old, sinister piece-o-shit Chevy Blazer – I couldn’t understand what he was thinking!! but as he pulled alongside me for the pass, our eyes locked for what felt like 3 or 4 seconds and my body turned to cold liquid.

Do you know the eyes of dementia? He looked seriously ill – not angry, not intimidating … just lunatic.

I seriously hope that one day, the field of psychiatry will be able to look past their vow of client confidentiality for the greater good of mankind, by reporting drivers with suicidal tendencies to the DMV. I don't know how much good that will do but maybe they should all drive special cars - the short bus comes to mind.

Do you realize that not every person behind the wheel of a car is sane?

Should insane people be allowed to operate heavy machinery? Whether under the influence of MAOI inhibitors or not? They are mostly always under the influence of their emotions. If they don’t care about their own lives, they should be deemed socially unfit to operate a vehicle – which is a potential weapon. People should have to undergo rigorous psychological analysis prior to being granted a drivers license and prior to each renewal.

Why should we, the sane, be forced to share a road with a kamikaze mothafu#$&*@? Isn’t it bad enough that we have to drive beside the regular rush hour assholes?

I’m no saint – that’s obvious

2008-10-24T11:02:00.000-07:00

… yet I do not believe that our evolution is the development of the “evil empire” – no – I just think we have allowed a few mutants to run amok – a few deviants have held us in terror. How does evil still have so much power over numbers? The majority of the world is not evil. It is a small, iniquitous minority who has managed to overcome a peace-loving majority. I don’t understand much about mind control but this has to be a major case in point.

Why do we let evil bind us?

Maybe it takes too much evil to fight evil and most of us don’t have it in us and this is precisely their advantage.

It’s so simple yet so complex.

While I was on the way to City Island in the Bronx, to eat at the lovely JP's Restaurant, I saw this bus above with the "Call Police" signal, - ofcourse no one bothered to call the police. I didn't want to be late for dinner. I was staaaaarving. What is wrong with me? Is it just me?

The Übermensch

2008-10-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

Hotel Mille Collines, famously known as Hotel Rwanda. I believe this is the garden of good and evil. Paul Rusesabagina is a true Human Being - a real Hero. He is Superman -- the Nietzsche Overman type, not the DC Comic diluted version. A living hero whose story should be told in every school history book.

Friederich Nietzsche said,

"All beings so far have created something beyond themselves;
and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood, and even
go back to being beasts, rather than overcome man? What is
the ape to man? A laughingstock or a painful embarrassment.
And man shall be just that for the Overman, a laughingstock;
a painful embarrassment."

Oh Promethius! Why did you bring us fire?!

"Happiness too, is inevitable". ~Albert Camus"

2008-10-23T20:22:00.000-07:00

... but I'm such a bitch at times.

Okay, I'm all for cleaning up the planet and the whole protection of the environment thingy, but what I cannot wrap my mind around is how this has taken priority above cleaning up our minds and hearts. Why is there no public government campaign for this? As an atheist, I am truly thrown off by the fact that the Church (of all remaining vestiges of barbarism), is left alone with this awesome responsibility, and they have to knock at our doors at 7am to wake us up to this ... poor souls -- only to be met by the likes of someone like me, who in my foul mood for being awoken from my best Johnny Depp dream, could only have changed my attitude by realizing that good things can happen too, maybe fortune had chosen to smile upon me that moment.

I ran down the stairs in my robe, for my classic sweepsteaks tv moment, yelling, "Did I win?! Did I win?!" I opened the door, fixing my hair a little (altho when the sweepstakes man comes, you don't really give a shit how you look on tv ... you look fucking RICH!!! that's all). Well these bastards failed to produce the 2x3 foot check with my name on it, and the tv cameras, instead, handing me a bible and a big damn smile saying -"Yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. We are here to bring you the Word". Well, here's a word for you "*&#$@%$!!" and I grabbed the bible and threw it out the door past them and slammed my door so hard in those nicely suited up boys' faces. And one of them was even cute -- the one without the acne scars, who didn't look so much like that pedofile from America's Most Wanted.

Now, I do believe that the Earth is quite capable of renewing itself, even at the expense of us mere mortals. If Earth has to expel us for the sake of itself, it will do so and evolve a new species who can exist in what is uninhabitable to mankind.

So, can we shift the focus to the harder issue here? Can we start by cleaning up our hate -- recycling our love, and maybe, just maybe, this magic will infuse the earth with a renewal we cannot hope to engineer in labs.

My subscription to Evil mag is up!

2008-10-23T20:14:00.000-07:00

Evil is not a fact of life.

Genocide is not Human Nature.

War is not a game of life ...

It is not the fate of mankind to suffer at the hands of each other, and I will NEVER again allow myself to be desensitized to such a narscisitic philosophy.

We were never meant to strive to survive - that is NOT living!

How have we come to allow the evil strategies of a few men in history, to survive to an era almost entirely devoid of most other forms of barbarism and savagery?

Is this the real idea of civilization?

Then we were better off as apes.

Can i use a lifeline, please ... or a neck brace??

2008-10-23T19:57:00.000-07:00

My life sometimes feels like a great big boxing ring in which I'm the underdog. It has fight-club rules and I can never get out. Everything that comes into the ring must be knocked out cold, or else knock me off my feet. Sometimes I win by decision, never a TKO, but always, ALWAYS with the black eyes and broken ribs.

So many rounds to go - so many bells yet to ring -- so much pain yet to come -- the short-lived triumphs, over the smaller, light-weight issues, many more heavy welter-weights unfairly matched up with this super feather-weight amateur division.

What is the purpose of what I've learned? What is the value of the wisdom of age?
Is it just a legacy I must pass down to my descendants so that some day they may take the title? -- and again, to what end? To what ultimate end??? and whose goal?? Who tallies the scores?

If Barak could say it himself ...

2008-10-23T19:41:00.000-07:00

Barak Obama, future President of these United States of America. Twelve days to go. These are his thoughts; what he would say to the Negro population - no - to just the nugg@z, if only he could:

"Now look here nugg@z, y'all are gonna have to settle the fuck down while I row with these oars I've been given to move this ship. Now, we made it past the middle passage, we've got twelve days, 12 days to go. Don't rock the boat. As a matter of fact, don't rock the boat for the next 4 to 8 years at least.

"Now, I never behaved like any of you, except a spliff or two and a snort here and there, but that's an issue both blacks and whites have faced. I won't be the first or the last president who did that, but I have managed to pull myself up to the highest level, despite the burden I bear, of some of your gross ignorance, just because we share a copper tan.

"But truth be told, my campaign would have been a lot less hazardous without having to defend this cocoa-brown, and I would have hemmed up this election from the get go, without them holding up the mirror.

"So, nugg@z, please, do me a solid, don't do the stereotypical shit you've been known to do -- don't do the white man's work. don't let me go out like a candle in the wind. Let me walk into the White House - proud- free at last - thank God almighty, Free at Last. Together we can -- YES WE CAN".

I have an extra chromosome to spare - any takers?

2008-10-23T19:31:00.001-07:00

It's just not in my DNA to be goal-oriented.
It's not encoded into my information system.
I grew up with a people who never used the words "next week".
We dreamed of how nice something would be, and then we got up and went to watch tv.
So my informative years went by without that goal-oriented data-set, and they were years of truly wild abandon and reckless living.

Lessons about a future were supplanted by the lessons I was living as I witnessed the grown-ups in my life who laid idly by, lamenting their misfortunes while neglecting to prevent a repeat in the generations to follow.

to be fair, there was little opportunity to prepare a future for poor people in a poor country, and none of us had imagined our lives would have taken us outside that arena. We all arrived here surprised and stunned. Deer in the headlight of American life.

Never fall in-love with a DJ

2008-10-23T19:21:00.001-07:00

We've all heard the saying "don't give up, never give in." The reality is that there are times when we must; when our very survival depends on our giving up, when it is just foolish to hold on.

Sometimes giving up may be the only prudent choice. Sometimes the road comes to an end. We must pay attention to where the road turns so we can turn with it, lest we run into an impass. At some point in our maneuvers, we must recognisze where we must let go of the old vine and clutch the new, or we will find ourselves dangling in this jungle; stuck.

Changes in direction do not signify an end but a new path to new selves. Once I had dreams that I held tightly to, with dogged determination, I refused to let go because I always heard that you should "never give up". One day, I realized that there is a time, when one must investigate whether it is to one's advantage to keep holding on to a particular dream. It can get to the point where it is just downright foolish to hang on to something, when the validity of that dream is past. We have to face the consequences of the things that we have allowed into our lives that now make our dreams, not impossible, but impractical and sometimes downright detrimental. And it is better still to let go, than to be flung cold from our fantasies, limb left clinging by the nails to the edge of a fantasma.

This is not about punking out. This is about strategic maneuvering. It is the difference between astute fortitude, and wishful thinking. Unplanned dreams are not much better than a life of wreckless abandon. Never giving up does not mean holding fast to one thing, banging your head against the same brick wall, hoping you will wear it down; it means never stopping doing something, just anything, until one of those things pans out.

This includes people. We should not hold on to people who have made the decision to move on. Once upon a time, in a land far away, I fell in love with a beautiful boy. He was, as they say, my first true love, the love of my life, the man of my dreams. After one of the most beautiful years of my life, he broke off our relationship and refused to communicate a reason. I did all I could to get back to him. He took no phonecalls, he never answered the door or the long love-or-death letters I sent him. My heart was fist-smashed into a deep hole of darness and dung. It took me years to recover. Recover?! Hardly. He was a damn dj. Let me say this, ladies, never, ever! fall in-love with a dj. Every song I heard on the radio, no, not just love songs--which would naturally stir the pain with its freakish past-life lyrics--no, every single song I heard from that period neutralized the numbing syrum of silence and life-in-general, that dulled the pain of losing him. Every tune drove me to banging my head against the steering wheel, and rocking myself to sleep at night. I would burst out crying at parties for no reason that would be apparent to anyone but my mom. She often heard the soft crying in my room at night, and saw my untouched dinner shivering on the dining table. "Oh boy. Here we go again." She would shake her head in pity. I eventually stopped listening to music altogether. Whatever - I'm so over him ... and I don't live with my parents anymore - I grew up and I moved on.

But seriously, people have to move on when they evolve beyond the ones they're with. Of course it's usually better when you both evolve at the same time.

Speaking of goals

2008-10-23T18:54:00.000-07:00

Ryszark Kapuscinski put it best in his book "The Shadow of the Sun" (great book),

"Not having a goal can be a bad thing -
but having one can also blind you. You see
only your goal, your eyes are so set, you miss
a deeper, more important opportunity".

Goals: I have a set 'em and forget 'em attitude toward goals... for several reasons:

Reasons:

1) most were not truly MY goals.
They were adopted when I fell under
pressure to make goals.

2) many of them were short term goals I
managed to circumnavigate.

3) I made goals but I had no plans.
Little did I know, the two are not mutually
exclusive, so unbeknownst to me,
I threw in all my own obstacles, thereby
making my own goals elusive and I was
worn out by my own hurdles. If I had had
PLANS, I would not have lived ad hock and
I would have been able to foresee how the
things I allowed into my life were going
make my dreams a nightmare.

4)Did I mention that I'm an emotional gypsy?
I have more phases than a housing scheme.
I can't keep a thought going long enough to
put in into action - unless it's short term,
you know - hare-like.

I thwarted myself. Way to go. Hey, maybe I am a genius.

The Tortoise and the Hare

2008-10-23T18:37:00.000-07:00

I'm not a tortoise. I'm definitely a hare.
I know, I know -- "slow and steady wins the race".

But slow KILLS ME ... kills my drive - it drags out the process,
and not slowly, I become nauseated at the thought that one single
goal is going to eat up my whole life and I will miss everything
else that I want to experience - the other varied dimensions of ME.

It's not slow that made the tortoise win,
or fast that made the hare lose.

What made the hare lose was cockiness; thinking he was so fast he could
take a nap here and there, and life would still be a "hare's breath" away.
So the tortoise only won thru dumb luck.

The hare only failed to meet that particular goal.

So I wish they would have ended the allegory on a more positive note for
the hare as well.

Here's my end of that story:

"... and the hare went on to run a whole new set of races.
Then fast and steady, with all that he had learned,
the hare went on to win more races than a tortoise ever could!"

My best self

2008-10-23T18:31:00.000-07:00

Each day I will be, the self I wish to be.

Here's the tricky part; being okay with it
if someone else is not okay with the me I choose to be.

Now that is what I call genius.

Genius is not about making everyone happy,
or being happy about everyone else.

I refuse to be a pawn to other people's impressions of me.

Yet it would seem that "others" are what we use to measure
of ourselves.

Is there some other greater measure?

I'm sure there is.

But what??

Be myself (which self???)

2008-10-23T18:20:00.000-07:00

Is something truly wrong with not wanting to win medals in life? Is that being non-conformist?

I've been struggling with being ok with who I am while the rest of the world has a different idea of what "ME" IT deems acceptable for me to be ok with.

What if I'm ok with who I am, and all I need is one person, the person I love, to be in-love with the "ME" that I love?

I have that.

Have I not made it?

So why am I still bothered about me?

Homemaker Wanted

2008-10-23T18:11:00.000-07:00

Where the right brain acts in tandem with the left, therein lies true genius. I think.
But what the hell is genius - I won't even look up the dictionary meaning. Is genius only found in the academic arena; in the art world??

Where else is genius?

Can I ever feel self worth without acheiving this title?

Can one be a genius lover? A genius at merely being human? At ordinariness. This is where I excell.

My Achilles is my achilles.

2008-10-23T17:56:00.000-07:00

Strangest fear: When I'm in the supermarket isles, the hair on my neck raises. I'm overcome with the deepest fear that someone will come up behind me and, inadvertently or not, ram thier supermarket cart into the back of my heel. My achilles tendon will burst wide open gushing blood all over the floor. I'm in excruciating pain, sweat beads on my skin. I'll fall right over and be unable to stand, but noone will come to my aid as I slip and slide in my own warm mess. I'll crawl over to my cart, try to pull myself up while I'm pleading "Somebody help me, please!!" and they'll all just stand there looking at me, whispering to each other, shaking their heads. I'm trembling in pain, I can't pull myself up to the cart, so I push the cart over till it falls and I pull myself along the ground to recover my purse and car keys. I begin my crawl toward the supermarket door, a trail of tears and warm blood behind me. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!!!" I crawl to the door, it slides open and I'm almost run over again by a new cart. I make it to my car on gravelled hands and knees and pull myself into the seat to drive myself to the hospital with my left foot crossed over the damaged right.

I know, I know. Fucking lunatic.