Excuse Me While My Brain Explodes...

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I'm in California this week and next...or last week and this? Shit, I don't know. All I know is I got a phone call on Saturday (last) that my grandmother had suffered a heart attack and two hours later D was driving me to the airport. I didn't even know what I'd packed (me- the person who literally packs for every occasion when traveling, including a run in with royalty). I flew home and immediately the roller coaster began. Lets not forget I hadn't seen the ex (Valentine) in about a month and things between us were pretty strained. THATS a whole other story. Now I'm hanging to a few minutes to blog, because it keeps me slightly sane. I'm also trying to freelance, juggle family, and find time to cry over the fact that I'm loosing my grandmother.

My brain is mush right now. I don't even think I've showered in 48 hours. This is a fact I would normally keep to myself, but right now myself is drowning in letters and numbers and notes and people and things. I've never craved my own bed more than I do right now, even though its sitting in Houston. My refuge is where? The ironic thing, I realized today as I sat outside in my mom's car crying into a venti iced soy mocha....is that the person I'd usually call to cry to....is grandma.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

Yay Mom!!

It's my favorite time of the year again!! California time. In less than 48 hours I'll be back in Cali with my family, friends and my baby-poo Valentine. I can't wait to hug my mom and sis and kiss my Grams.

And that's really all I have to say. ♥

(©2009 Lotus B.)

It's Like...

...twisting my bubble gum around a cold finger. Creating a sticky apple-pineapple flavored rope...around and around. Hoping it won't snap. Hoping it will.

Hoping it does something. Anything.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

In The News...

Not only is Alexis Hutchinson from my home town of Oakland, California; but her story about refusing deployment is part of a very long list of reasons I never will and never have believed in war. The 21 year old single mother of an infant son refused to show up for her flight to Afghanistan because she had no one to take care of her child. She was told at first by her superior that she would have to place him into foster care.

What else could she do?

Before we're anything in this world we're human, and after that, if applicable, we're parents. I don't know how married parents are able to leave their children behind to go over seas, let alone a single mother.

I just thought it was an interesting display of how the military can work sometimes.

Click here to read

*Photo: Associated Press
(©2009 Lotus B.)

Mama Bear, Sissy Bear

"Oh, I'm just gonna squeeze you and kiss you all over!!" My mother squealed on the other end of my office phone. I rolled my eyes, then tried to hold back giggles. In reality I wanted to tell her that not only was I super excited to be seeing her, but that all my love would probably come pouring out and I would cry and grab her and hug her and throw her through the wall.

This is how we love in my family. So big, that it hurts.

My sister is also coming this weekend. "Sister" always seems like such a plain choice of words for her. She's more like my esophagus....or my spine. She's like the nuclei to every cell in my body. My sister is me...only older and probably much wiser. But only slightly cuter.

When they visited me in New York I could hardly muster up the energy to show them all the wonderful amazing things the city had to offer. Here in Houston, aside from the ridiculously shamefully wide range of eateries and the "who shot John" cockroaches....we're kind of left with the main components; hot weather and miles of sky and time to talk.

The best part of seeing them, under any circumstance is that it's a refresher course in who I am. Seeing my mother's wide shy smile and hearing my sisters mountainous laugh. These are the things that are more a part of me than anything else I've become recently. Underneath it all, even when I'm far away and even though I'm not all that high (yet)... they keep me grounded.

The King is Gone

As soon as I got in the car with D, he asked me if I'd heard the news.

"Did you hear about Michael?" He said. Funny..I didn't even need to ask 'Michael who?' ...I automatically assumed he meant THE Michael.

"He died.." He said.

"Fuck you" I replied.

Ever since I was old enough to spit, Michael Jackson has been a part of my life. My father was totally obsessed...my mother was only slightly obsessed. I remember waking up on Saturday mornings to the tune of, "...Do you rememba...AH!...when we...fell in love.."

The hoards of people who grew up with him since he was a little kid, through his trials in the public eye and scrutiny he endured as the biggest legend and running joke all seems to boil down to one simple thing. No one has impacted music so intensely as Michael Jackson did.

I know soon, his face will suddenly be on t-shirts and his image splashed across every magazine racing for the highest sales. He'll become frozen in time, forever iconic. My kids will probably watch the 3 hour epic movie about his life and times, and ask me if I remember him. I'm not even ashamed to say I cried a bit when I heard. He was a part of my childhood. For every occasion...there is a Michael Jackson song...

Even though he never got even close to as much respect form the world as he should have, at least he's leaving behind one hell of a legacy. He'll forever be the King of Pop.

Michael Joseph Jackson
August 29th, 1958-June 25th, 2009
"The foremost art of Kings is to endure hatred" -Seneca

Neither Here Nor There (Sunday's Reflections...

What do you do when you have no idea, anymore, of where you belong? Not just mentally, but physically...geographically. How do you figure that out? Keep searching? Go back to the beginning? Give in?

I know that's an intense idea. A little deep for a Sunday. Or maybe not. This is the day of reflection, no? Everyone does their unwindings on Sunday, so I did a few. I guess when I really think about it, I don't know much about where I belong. The only insight I have is that I know where I don't belong. I don't belong somewhere quiet. I don't belong somewhere apprehensive or passive. I don't belong anywhere that bares more clouds than sun. Take that how you will.

I miss my family. I will admit to that. There has been something pulling at me to go back.

4 More Days!!!!

In 4 days I'll be surrounded again by those I love the most!

♥

White Tuesday

I was smiling underneath my coat hood tonight.

When I was a kid, I was quite oblivious to the "damage" being done to me. I didn't realize how much it would effect me that we moved so much, that there was upheaval, and disappointment. As children tend to do, I always seemed to filter these things out and store them for the time that would come when I would inevitably be much more aware. What I did notice, was that almost every time my family moved...it rained. Now, as a 24 year old woman...I hate rain. I hate everything about it accept for the sounds it creates on a rooftop.

I left work tonight with one goal in mind. Get home soon. I got on my usual 3 train, but didn't get far before it started slowing down. The loud speaker broke through the silence and informed us at the Chambers Street stop that another train ahead of us was stalled and we would be waiting for a bit. So, I waited. The next stop was the same scenario, and again I waited. Only this time, I realized I could connect to the A and take the 4 home instead of waiting on a stalled line. So I did. After getting off the A and walking through the tunnel to the 4 I arrived just in time to see that the 4 was so full, not even a small child could fit inside it's doors. So it left without me. I waited some more, and this time a 2 showed up. The 2 doesn't go to my neighborhood, but it would get me close enough, so I got on. It was packed, smelly, damp and loud. My frustration seemed to collect in the tips of my fingers and the end of my nose. I was approaching livid. Then I got off of the 2 and crossed the path to take the 4. I waited...

...And waited some more.

Finally the 4 came and took a crap load of angry Brooklynites (?) home. I was steaming by the time I got off at my stop, nearly an hour behind. The cold air started to hit me sooner than usual as I climbed the steps to exit, which meant that the temperature had dropped drastically since I left Manhattan. Then I cam out of the station and onto the street.

I was in a snow globe. Wisps of white cotton was falling heavily on everything around me. The cars were covered, the houses were frosted and the sky was almost completely white. My California ass started swatting the snow away trying to make my way through. But as I walked, and the snow transformed from flakes to drops of water on the sidewalk, my frustration seemed to melt away too. By the time I got to my street I was smiling like a school girl.

In between the moving, the fighting, the disappointment and the let downs...there was snow. Sporadic though the occasion was, on trips to Tahoe or staying with my Great Grandparents in Ohio there were mounds of crunchy snow. The thought occurred to me as I walked through it that my happiest times as a child were spent in snow. I had no bad memories of snow, nothing to feel except unencumbered. And so, sappy as this might sound, I mumbled a thank you before reaching my door stoop.

The smallest things, sometimes as small as a 6 degree drop in temperature can make you remember that nothing is all bad.

♥My 200th Post!!♥

^My First Week in Brooklyn.

I started this blog about 5 months before moving to New York on my Myspace blog. It wasn't called "I Say Hella" back then, it was just called...like "Blog" or something un-fabulous. At first, aside from my close friends and family, the only person who read it regularly was my ex-boyfriend's girlfriend who was totally obsessed with me because she was convinced he (the ex) was still in love...drama.

So I chronicled the adventure before the adventure...leaving California. Saying goodbye to friends and family...looking for an apartment in Brooklyn with Molly. The mess of emotions that stuck to the walls of the apartment I shared with D during our "technically broken up but still in love but living together" phase.

I guess the real reason I started this blog on blogspot, was because I was so far away from home. Far away from family and every friend I'd ever made. I was in a new world that I had to figure out day by day on my own and no one was around to share that with. So I did what I do best. I wrote about it.

I never started this to gain attention (not that it HAS or anything) I just wanted for my friends and family to get a peek into what I was experiancing and how I was doing. Along the way, I've received emails from perfect strangers who tell me that something I've written has made them think differently about themselves, or about life or love and that's a pretty awesome compliment. I've even had someone ask me how I got up the guts to up and leave California.

"Guts..." I said, "...don't wait for guts...leaving scared shitless is the best way to leave. Find the guts when you really need them."

I know I'll be going home soon. I know New York will always be some kind of strange dream with the taboo of a love affair; just dirty enough to feel wrong and clean enough to feel new. I'm glad I came, glad I'm here and I'm glad I'll be leaving one day.

Thanks to all those who read & comment, I'm glad you get a kick outta my life.

♥

Seeing D

Aside from the unfortunate circumstances, seeing D this past weekend was like a breath of fresh air. Laughing with him, holding hands, going out to dinner, having someone open doors for me and walking with the security of his hand on the small of my back. Sounds sappy, but these are the things you miss when your over 2,000 miles away from the one person you love the most.

Same ole us. Corny jokes, wise cracks and upside-down observations all the day long. We laugh at weird shit, but what can I say...it's the tie that bonds us.

Of course, Sunday was to worst. Time scattered away from us and every five minutes felt like five seconds. Before we knew it, it was time again for that familiar drive to the airport.

A drive that is beginning to get old for both of us.

I'll see him in December...28 days or so from now. The count down, inevitably once again starts over.

Paper Made of People

I think I was one of those kids who always had to be challenged. When the room got quiet, and my mother's crumbling attempts to entertain me finally tired, I would bounce around the living room on my tippy toes and ask a thousand questions.

So I grew up to become the kind of woman who asks a thousand questions and thirsts for something else to tire me. Every time I press myself, I've been able to rise to the occasion. Walking out, showing up, flying away and coming back are four of the most important things I've ever done in my life. And each step brought me to my knees in ways I couldn't contemplate surviving. But after being broken down, then jumping with my eyes closed shut, and holding my breath while the bubbles surfaced I always seemed to find my air. To the point where I almost look forward to drowning a little bit.

ON A TOTALLY UNRELATED TOPIC

These days, loneliness has taken on a new meaning. It's not like I don't have any friends. I'm either at work or chillin with Tia (and her new man, we'll call him "Ant") or Etienne or my room mate Monica. Throw in a second gig, and the occasional show or lounge and I have to admit there are very few moments of boredom. Plus it takes little to amuse me these days...

...But by "loneliness" I mean missing familiarity. New York is familiar to me, but in a different way. In a way that speaks to my new skin, and not to my long term memory. I was on the train the other night coming home from Manhattan; watching one of the back cars on the 4 train empty with every stop that passed. It was just me and this sleepy old guy for a while. He was thin with tissue paper skin and dusty faded eyes. His khaki fisherman hat reminded me of my great grandfather Henry, whom I barely knew and don't quite recall if he ever even wore that kind of hat. For a second we shared several passing glances; the kind you exchange when your trying to observe someone without letting them on that your paying attention. I was in the middle of wondering how old he was, when he held my glance long enough to expose a weepy smile that then faded slowly back into a firmly held line. It was just a second, but in that second I realized my mother was right; people don't smile as much in New York, at least not to strangers. But when the old dude smiled at me (or strangely...laitly...when anyone does) I was half filled with warmth and half with sadness. That which is familiar to me is miles away. Many, many miles away. The stretch of shops near Merit Lake in Oakland, the hills you pass on the drive up to Sacramento that my sister and I always used to think were really dinosaurs hidden under blankets of wild white-brown grass...

...When an old man who smiles at you on the train almost brings you to tears, you know it's time for some familiarity.

"He's So Crazy" & Other Poisonous Ideas About Men

In light of the recent shocking events surrounding Jennifer Hudson's tragic loss of her mother, brother and possibly her nephew (police have found a body that might be the 7-year old boy), I started thinking about relationships. All of the Hudson family drama seems to have stemed from the tumultuous relationship between Jennifer's sister Julia and her husband. Julia's myspace page (I've done my research, y'all) even has a picture of a car he supposedly sold against her will, her caption referring to how her brother (now deceased) had to pick her up from work because "bitch ass William sold my car". I know there is nothing comical about this situation, but it's funny how women never seem to see these kinds of men as an issue until it's too late. The stupid little controlling things he does are ok, but rarely do these women stop to think about how far his crazy antics might go, or who they might effect one day.

I've met women like this before, hell, I used to be one. Referring to their boyfriends as "crazy" as if the things he does authenticates his love for them. He must really love you to go out of his way to make sure you can't leave the house when he wants you to stay. He must REALLY love you to check up on you every 15 minutes of the day. And GIRL he must be SO IN LOVE with you because when you get mad and break up with him he goes bizirk until you take him back. This kind of behavior is not attractive to the typical woman, but it's attractive to some. An attraction that can lead to things like the Hudson double-homicide (possibly triple). Women make excuses for the men they date; women who don't pay closer attention to the warning signs. They like the attention, they like a man who makes a fool of himself for her. In my head, making a fool of yourself, entails sending a ridiculous display of roses to your job or asking you to dance to elevator music. NOT disrupting your life with a series of hissy fits. I never thought my ex, Louis' behavior would effect any one's life but mine until he showed up to my house with a metal baseball bat and threatened to kill a male friend who was at my house. Not only did he threaten, he tried and fortunately failed. That could have easily been a family member, or myself. That could have VERY easily have been a murder, or a double murder. I think about that night every time I hear some woman talk about how "crazy" her boyfriend is and how she stays anyway because, "that's just the way he is." Thinking a tragic escalation of violence can't happen to you just because you sleep in the same bed as this man is a very ignorant mistake to make. ANY man who doesn't respect you as a women, an individual and have enough sense to make your life NOTHING but better is a man who is missing a few screws and can very easily snap over to the other side.

I don't find stories like this amusing, and I don't find men like that to be innocent. Dating a scruffy guy who prefers to keep it "street" is fine, but dating an outright maniac just because he puts it down in the bedroom is foolish. Think about your life and the lives around you and ask yourself if you want to be responsible for your "crazy" man turning his anger on the people you love.

Helpful Resources:

National Domestic Abuse Hotline

Domestic Abuse Help

Prayers R With J-Hud

I'm not really a fan of hers, but I can't imagine what it must feel like to loose your mother and brother in one day, and find your nephew missing. My prayers are with Jennifer Hudson and her family, especially the little boy's mother. To read the full story CLICK HERE

UPDATE: The suspect, William Balfour, J-Hud's sister's husband and or baby's father, was arrested late last night and is now in police custody. The whereabouts of 7-year old Julian King are still unknown.

Every so often there is tragedy that strikes Hollywood and it reminds us that these things can happen to anyone. This kind of shit makes me want to check up on literally everyone I know and make sure their livin' alright.

Vintage Me

Looking through some old files, came across some old pictures.

My mother and I the first week in me and D's first place together in Hayward, CA >>>>>>>>>>>>>

(left & below) My 24th B-Day dinner in San Francisco w/ friends and fam.

<D and me on one of our first trips to visit his family in Los Angeles. Also, the rental car from hell, never buy a Saturn, even if you think their cute now.

>>>

MAJOR THROWBACK!!

This is my ex-boyfriend (and still good friend), Noah the summer we stopped being annoying neighbors and had a budding summer romance.

^^^^^^

Vintage Me- (2001) The day after Jr. Prom. In front on my cousin Atya's house. You couldn't tell me SHIT back then. I was 17, the ONLY year of my life that I was boyfriend-less. A few months before I got my first place and "adult" life began.

Insomnia (again)

I was chatting with my sister on IM yesterday when she mentioned she was sleep deprived. I told her to try Unisom, then Ambien as if I were some kind of sleep-guru. In reality, I've been sleep deprived for weeks now. Its obvious in almost every aspect of my life. I haven't properly blogged in a while, haven't written a single word for my book, I've been dressing very much unlike myself (the other day I actually wore tennis shoes in public...TENNIS SHOES!!) and to top it off, I've been rushing out the door to work; sans pre-packed lunch, book and fully charged iPod and usually about 10 minutes later than I should be leaving. I stomp down the block towards the subway swearing to myself the oath of all oaths that I will go home immediately after work and crash. I ride the train, head bobbing then falling then shooting back up at each stop. Eyes puffy and bare of any definition (mostly because I've been leaving void of eye liner. For a woman with eyes of my caliber, this is a sin). I waft through my day, mystified and full to the brim with flavored coffee. Then when I come home, I seem to fall into a different routine. Mind numbing nothingness. I tinker with my online classes, for the moment feeling quite productive. Then I sort of just remain. I watch a little Hulu. I take a shower and then IM D for a while. Somehow time flies and suddenly it's 2 am, and I'm so tired I can barely keep my head up. 4 hours later I fight a loosing battle with my snooze button and finally emerge and do the whole thing over again. It's not until Saturday morning that I actually get to sleep. Of course this is not what I'd like my Saturday's to be about. I'd like to rise early (meaning between 8 and 10am), go for a long jog, clean up, maybe head over to the book store and pick up some new books, go to the market and get some fruit...you know...productive things. Instead I can be found under a mound of tussled blankets, probably snoring, silk scarf inevitably in disarray and falling off my head; waking up occasionally only to use the bathroom. Then it's mid-day, or late afternoon and my motivation to do anything has been sucked dry.

This pattern has got to stop. I don't know how, or what the first thing to change should be. But I'm a walking zombie. A bubble simply floating with no direction or mission other then to dwell and possibly rest before bursting into tiny drops of water. A bit dramatic, I know. But that's how I feel. It's like Ed Norton said in one of my favorite movies, Fight Club; "With insomnia, nothings real. Every thing's far away, every thing's a copy.." I feel like a little faded copy of myself these days. The real me is still stuck in the copier resting on the plate glass, waiting to be picked up. Save me.

People Who Know My Face...

It’s that special time of the year again, when people I love trickle into JFK and LaGuardia and stay in Brooklyn for a few days. This time around, however the tension of living with fuck-tards is out of the way, and my company and I can relax and enjoy the first few days of Fall in peace.

My mother will be first to arrive on Thursday. We don’t have anything solid planned other than to see a show and take in the sights of Manhattan. I don’t think she’s been to New York since she was around my age, maybe younger. I’ll be taking her to Dumbo (my personal favorite), the WTC, Time Square, Fifth Ave…and so on. I know her brand of motherly care is just what I need right now. I’m sure it’ll be a big huge, “Hi BABIEEEE!!” Followed by a light-hearted, “You BRAT.” for good measure. I can’t wait to see her wide smile and give her a big hug. I’m sure she’ll make me cut her hair, which of course (Mom if you’re reading this…) I’ll use as a bargaining tool to get a nice pair of something or other while we’re in the city. Hee hee..

Then come’s the future Mr. My Husband. After I realized that flying from New Orleans (which is about a 5 hour drive for D) to JFK is well under $200 I probed him to come see me. So he’ll be flying out on the 2nd and staying for the weekend. Wrapping my arms around him and keeping him locked in my bedroom for the entire time is about all the plans I have in mind as of yet. I haven’t seen him since August, and I probably won’t see him again until the holidays (Christmas probably). Honestly I plan on nothing more than sleeping in his arms, possibly seeing a movie, perhaps having one meal outside my apartment, but then retreating immediately back to my bedroom. I’m sure he’ll have no complaints.

After a long and drama-full summer, I’m looking forward to hanging out with two of the people who know me best. Between the motherly love and attention and the security of my man’s strong arms, riding out the rest of the year should be a breeze.

It’ll at least hold me until Obama wins the election.

Life, Pause....Life Again...

Because life can be excruciatingly boring at times and then turn around and become so eventful that your head spins I, sadly, have not written in a while. But you'll all be glad to know I haven't been sitting on my flat ass this whole time. The week Atya, my cousin came out, I busied myself with showing her around. Of course because I'm still a "temp" at my job, so I can't just take off a week and go chill. But fortunately for us she came up during the 4th of July weekend, so I already had two days off. I showed her Brooklyn, and of course my favorite spot; Habana Outpost. Took her with me to Philly where we met up with Gwen for the 4th of July concert in the park. Crowds gathered, John Legend performed and fireworks crackled and lit of up the sky. It was a good day.

The following weekend, Gwen and I and her boyfriend Murphy met up to spend the day in NYC. I took them to Sylvia's Soul Food restaurant in Harlem (my favorite), where we watched Murphy scarf down like 8 cornbread muffins before lunch even came to the table. Yes, it's THAT delicious. Later we went to Dumbo and walked around, overheard the Brooklyn Hip Hop Festival grabbed some iced coffee and headed to Brooklyn Heights so I could show them the view.

The next day I picked my sister, Brittany up from the airport. I was immediately irritated because the Dunkin Doughnuts stand near the baggage claim was out of coffee; forcing me to wait. But I lit right back up when I saw my sister walking towards me. And speaking of "lighting up", so did her eyes when we emerged from the underbellies of the subway and onto the sidewalk of Fulton and Nostrand, right smack in the center of Bed Stuy. She looked around and took it all in as if she was in some kind of adult candy shop (candy, perhaps a little porn..). Her eyes were so big, I was reminded of my old neighbor Gerri who owned to Shitsu dogs and once told me that their eyes can actually fall out of their tiny little heads. Before I had to scoop my sisters eyeballs off of the dirty gum ridden street corner, I asked that she kindly not act so "new". My sister and I spent the week hanging out at lunch, and after work. Went to Bingo night with Tia, Etienne and some of his friends. Got silly drunk and actually stayed for open mic night. The week was a blur of weed smoke, the Dark Knight premier, obscene shopping, long nights and finally topped off with the 2008 Siren Music Festival at Coney Island. All in all, the week was phenomenal.

It even over shadowed the fact that both my room mates are complete dick-hole morons (it's my blog I can bitch if I want to) and I've decided to move out and leave them in the filth of their own unpleasantness. But I found two AWESOME room mates in an AWESOME apartment near the BK museum... so boo. ♥

Me and Gwen in Brooklyn Heights

Me and Atya in Philly at the John Legend Show

Me and Tia at the Siren Music Festival

And Now the World is Quieter

I got bad news while walking down Broadway on this beautiful sunny day in NYC. "Sheree passed this morning." My mother said.

"Hello?" She said.

Didn't I say, "Oh", I thought I just said, "Oh".

"Ash, are you ok?"

"Yes. Ok."

My mother said some more comforting words, in that comforting way that she says them, with a milk and honey kind of voice. She reminded me that life is precious and said she loves me tenderly. My eyes swelled with tears and my voice became shaky. But it passed. I took a breath and tried not to think about the people I've lost in the past year. How it happens suddenly, and always unfairly.

What other words can I say. Everything is hushed when they leave. Like green lights turning yellow, without a single sound.

YIPEEEE!!!

I feel like an abandoned pet jumping around in it's animal shelter cage, poking it's paws through the wires with gleeful excitement. VISITORS!!! My cousin Atya is going to be here at midnight tomorrow and she'll be here an entire week!! We're gonna go to SoHo and browse the shops, hit up a club or two and go to a John Legend concert in Philly. I haven't seen a familiar face (other than D's) since March and it's starting to drive me a little nutty. I can't wait!!