Love Him While He Sleeps...

Tell your self you love a man while he's sleeping. While his defences are down and he's not being his confident super self. While he's given himself to slumber, and his eyes are swollen shut. Tell yourself then, that you love him. Don't be so misguided by what men can convince us they are. All the answers to our car questions, the infinite knowledge of how to build everything and hook every electrical item in your house up. Far stronger than you, last..if ever to cry. Who squashes bugs and laughs at you when your being a "silly woman". Instead, love him when he's quiet and far away and dreaming and out of control over it all.

Vacuuming My Dirty Carpet...

Today my superpower is CLEAN SWEEPER!! I have the ability to handle un-finished business...clip loose ends...severe dangling ties.

I 've been holding back some choice words for a few choice people and today in one fell swoop I dispensed with the courtesies and let loose on every one's ignorant ass.

HOLY GOOD INTENTIONS, CLEAN SWEEPER!!!

I kindly told my fat, bacon-hoarding, old room mate that....well she is a fat bacon-hoarding little room mate. I told the other old room mate that not only is she lacking self confidence but she's the biggest poser I've met since high school and she should get used to the reality that she's also excruciatingly boring and useless as a woman and human being. I even told my ex-best friend that her lack of keeping-in-touch ability is no longer cute and that she should grow up and learn to write down a phone number like a big girl.

YES...no one is exempt from my lightning-bolt zingers. PIKAHH!!! Run you, tiny imbecilic minions!!!! I vanish you from my Blackberry and here after from my life.....

Who wants next?

Say

Silence is twisted

And you know this

Drives me

Crazy

But you remain

Still with your selfish motives

Knowing every second is like miles

Every inch of distance is like hours

Taken from us

Expiration all around us

Wasteful silence

Twisted mind game

Go ahead and say you couldn't help it

Liar

Decision:

I've decided that in light of recent events, I will never, ever, ever....look out for anyone else but myself.

I consider other people way too much.

The Deafening Sound of Muted Silence...

Nothing scares the shit out of me more than serenity. In fact, those who wonder why my best friend and I share such an unshakable bond don't realize that this was the very first item we bonded over. The deconstructors, we called ourselves. We are the stompers of sandcastles, the nail polish pickers. Up until my 22th birthday, my go-to excuse was age. I was young. I was inexperienced. I was searching. Of course I realize I'm still young. But I've definitely passed the point where decisions made no longer have the power to curtly nullify your progress in life. I've made decisions over the past 3 years that caused permanent scars. I've made them in slow motion. I've processed thinkable thoughts while purposely not thinking about it. While closing my eyes to the light and choosing to float above myself. I am the preferer of out-of-body experiences.

So, you can imagine my surprise as of late, while I begin to realize that all of my decisions, or at least 90% of them are made to ensure permanence. Stability, even. My mother and I chatted the other day, and as usual she spoke the words that had barely yet caused my mouth to part. "I don't know," I said, "I just feel like for the last few years, I've been....like doing things for the wrong reason...like so much change...because...I mean...I..." Calmly she interrupts, "You feel like all you do is react." She said. ((Exactly))

No matter what, the places I end up will always be a product of how I feel. I found much needed silence in New York (ironically) and then silence became too loud here with D. So again I'm changing and again I welcome it. Saturday, after all the boxes are moved and I'm in my own place again, I'll breathe. After room mates and D and being who he needed and who I thought I should have been...looking into an empty room will feel like bathing. I haven't lived on my own since I was 21 years old. Even longer if you count the ghosts.

**Note to Reader: I am aware that I have "manufactured" a few words and phrases within this post, and I appreciate your assumed acceptance of said terms in advance.

My Brain Has More Than Farted....

There are times in (my) life when one has to allow themselves the luxury of letting all of the millions of thoughts stream through their mind like one of those endless streams of spit that fall out of babies mouths. That thing never breaks or wavers, it goes on forever...and like so many babies spit strings, so are my thoughts today. Here...I'll share them, in random order.

Truck. Highlighter.Mom. Plane ticket.Checking Account. WaMu is Chase. CH-ase. Shase. Cheese. Lunch. Hungry....shit I'm hungry. Fat. Gym. Did I pay them? Hair.Cut. Chop. Sad. Shave? Dare I? Ugh...phone, who is it? T-Mobile. Did I pay them?? Uhaul...rip-off. Carroll street. AJ. Clean up. Plane ticket. Damn...that was a lot of money to spend on a few days. Apartment. Furniture. Car. I need a fucking car. I hate cars. I hate car notes. I want a Beetle. Ugh...bugs. Stick. I should really learn to drive a stick. Cheaper car. Ugh...cars. Ugh..gas. Gas. Damn....set up utilities. Electric. Why are there so many electric companies. Lol...The Electric Company. TV. Cable. Hell no, no cable. TV sucks. Movies don't. I need a TV for movies. Damn. Another thing to buy. Damn, another thing to move. Move. School. Ugh. Junior. Ugh transfer. Applications. California? Grandma. Comedian. My grandmother wants to be a comedian. She is pretty funny. I should write about her. Writing. Ugh...writers block. 2735 words. Painful. 15 more pages. Please complete "About". About to pass out from all the words. The Right Word. The Written Word. How many dictionaries does one writer need? Need. Shit. I need groceries. And plates. And forks. I have forks. Forks are in Brooklyn. Can you take forks on a plane? Plane...shit. I need a ride to the airport. D? Maybe not. Work. Too much work. Oz works so much. I could never be that way. Must breathe. Must be able to smell the roses. Must have time to write. Time to pray. Time to cook exploratory dishes. Dishes...ugh.

On Selling My Soul...

I sat nervously in the salon chair waiting to be helped. I seemed to be reading every other word of my book, looking away every few seconds to check and see nothing in particular. I could still back out...nothing had been done yet. But I rationalized that after combing through my thick mess of kinky curls that morning in the shower, seeing the hair appointment through was the least I could do. Besides..I was bored. Bored with my hair and ready for a change. Yes, natural hair is the best hair-choice, yes it looks hot (on me at least), yes I received hoards of compliments from women who said they didn't have the ovaries to do the big chop and go nappy...but I had seen and sufficiently conquered. I missed headbands. I missed fedoras. I missed having fingers run through my hair and wind for that matter. So when Deborah, the stylist walked over and stuck her thick fingers into my jungle coif and asked me if I was sure I wanted to relax it...I said yes with all the fake determination I could muster. Like so many good decisions I've made in my life...this one was made with shaky hands.



There is something about hair that holds so much power over your spirit. A new hair cut to me is as transforming as moving a few pieces of furniture around or trying a new concealer. The smallest detail and suddenly your a whole new you. We humans are simple, I suppose. Although the power of change is within us whenever we choose to summon it, we seem to prefer visual starting points and ending points. We have a thousand first days of the rest of our lives.



In that sense, the "press n curl" came at just the right moment. I had (once again) made a decision no one expected. I decided to stay in Houston...at least for a little while longer. Long enough to get enough air in my lungs to breathe and enough space around my head to let my congested thoughts spread out a bit. Space was the common theme. After it was all over, I looked in the mirror so closely, it was as if I was trying to look directly into my own head. I just wanted to see my roots again, now smooth and shiny. I ran my fingers through my hair and let it fall back around my face. My hair breathed, then I breathed and I felt justified in my little crime.

HAWTNESS: Lil Kim & Cyndi Lauper Duet

Lil Kim and Cyndi Lauper performed live together a combo of Lil Kim's Put Ya Lighters Up and Cyndi's Time After Time... Lil Kim is actually singing and personally I think the whole thing is pretty awesome...

CLICK HERE to check it out...

Untitled

Was thinking about the concept of time. Specifically about how 15-minutes is such a powerful section of it. In 15 minutes so much can happen. If you only have 15 minutes you tend to react to the task at hand with so much motivation and vigor. A 10-minute break is pointless, and waiting 20-minutes for rice is like listening to someone sing the theme song from Lamb Chop.

But 15 minutes...

...15 minutes makes all the difference in the world.

The Verbal Contract...

You've said it. It's out there like a venomous cough lurking in the air ready to spring onto it's next victim and slowly take them down into the hells of the common cold. Once you've said, "I love you" there are expectations that immediately follow. Now your expected to do the things you once simply felt comfortable dancing around. Normally, initiating this potent phrase renders you to the next step...whatever that may be. Sharing straws or introducing each other to intimate members of respective inner circles. A guaranteed date on Saturday night...



What else, besides this assumed progression would saying, "I Love You" usher in? If you remain stagnant or intentionally fall apart...will the feeling of love be less impressed in your mind simply because you never spoke those specific syllables? Will saying them make a difference? As if each word ejects some microscopic love-rope that grips the heart of your Love's target and forever binds you together? Hardly.



Love is just a word. Having and holding love is just a waiting room. Love is just a beginning. A promise that can remain empty or be fulfilled. Like the temptation of an orgasm so humans are mindlessly drawn to procreate. Love is just the initial stir of emotions, the realization that someone fits so well into your hands (figuratively of course) that it feels "right". And feeling that way is what helps a relationship grow and blossom into the stuff happiness and families are made of. So that we don't walk through life alone because we can't get over the impeccable pattern of idiosyncrasies everyone has and how much they annoy us. Love itself is really just a day. One day, or even a moment in that day when you look up and realize that this amazing person in front of you now has the power to hurt you or help you heal. Saying those silly three words in any form or language won't change the ability they now hold. Not speaking those words won't un-do this realization. Silence would be nothing but a nervous joke to pass the time.