Colorful

Call me a bit off, weird or quirky, but I love filling a glass with ice, ginger ale or a citrus drink and placing a fruit popsicle (Edy's Fruit Bar) upside inside. Somehow when I have this concoction going my body instantly chills and I relax.  

Tonight as I currently have a glass...ok plastic cup... filled with such I'm sitting back and letting my thoughts fly. As usual I don't know where to begin in spewing my thoughts, so everything feels like a ramble or a run-on sentence in my head.

However, tonight I'm stuck on better halves.

I've been reading a few blogs and came across a couple in which the blogger talks about missing their other or better half. Their half is away for whatever reason and in each case they have pondered on their existence without their half.  I can't help but wonder how I will fair over the weekend when Papi leaves for his family reunion. True, I'll miss him, but it won't be the end of the world. It's the Snickerdoodle that I can't bare to be away from for an extended amount of time.  I must say I did very well a few weeks ago when she spent the night with my aunt and grandmother. I only called to check on her once.  I knew she was in good hands.

Still, this whole thing about better halves has been coming to me ever since my cousin's funeral last week. My cousin and his wife were married for 62 years. What scares me a bit, when people who are that in love and in tuned to each other; when one goes away in death the other isn't far from behind. This was proof enough for me a few years back when my Uncle Gyden passed away. Uncle Gyden and his wife, Aunt Louise, had been married 50 plus years.  They loved, worshipped and did just about everything together. I will never forget the day of Uncle Gyden's funeral. At the end I had approached Aunt Louise wanting to give her a hug and let her know I was there.  Needless to say I was taken aback when I approached her.

All my years of knowing Aunt Louise, I had never seen her cry at a funeral. I remember very vividly, especially at my great-grandmother's funeral, she was the one to rally everyone together and tell them to forget their tears of sadness. If anything it was a day of celebration. She was one of the strong pillars of the family. Yet on that day of her husband's funeral her world seemed to have ended. When I approached her she was full of tears. Nothing would come out my mouth. I stood there with tears coming from my eyes as she kept repeating,

"I can't live without him. I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't live without him."

A few months later, Aunt Louise was gone.

I'm aways in utter amazement when I come across a couple that in tuned to eacher that their hearts are really one. It's even more amazing when you can actually FEEL the energy that a couple that in tune radiates with. I feel very blessed to be or have been in the presence of such couples, because it renews my faith in real, unconditional, deep down to the core, consuming, undying love.  I feel this way about my Snickerdoodle. I love waking up in the morning and seeing her face or feel her climb over me trying to wake me up.

"Get up Mommy!"

Though I don't want to spoil her to the point that she can't do without me, I'll admit sometimes it is hard. For the most part she is good at entertaining herself  if I have duties around the house to complete or if I leave her in the care of a family member she'll busy herself with whatever. When I return in her sight that's when she falls apart. She'll run, crawl or fast walk to get to me. If we aren't in arms reach she'll start to whimper or even cry while reaching for me. When I'm in her sight, she watches every move I make and now that she is walking good, she'll try to follow. 

Maybe I have spoiled her just a bit.

So many times I've replayed in my mind the events that has led up to her existence. Eventually I end up shedding a tear or two, because I realize that I am completely in love with her and I can't even begin to image my life without her.

When it comes to the type of love or intimacy that my daughter may not be able to provide me, I only hope that I am blessed to have such a person my life; for us to be on the same level and able to grow spiritually and emotionally together. Just as it is with my daughter, I want the divine given love; one that was chosen just for me.

Divinely favored.  

The new issue of Essence magazine features singer Usher and his recently born infant son. I've only skimmed through the article and glanced at the beautifully done photo shoot, but I teared up as I read lyrics to a song he wrote for his son, especially the ending lines.

"I ain't going nowhere
Even when I get on your nerves
Cause I'm your daddy

My prayer for you
Son I pray for you"

- Usher "Prayer for You"

I've been inspired to sit down and pen something down for my better half.  I haven't written anything for her since March, just before her first birthday.  I just feel the need to go deeper with and about my love for her. I'm afraid I may never be able to convey such depth of loves in a written passage.

Ms. (In) Dependent
By Mahoganie
March 2008
Washington, DC

Ms. (In) Dependent
Decided to get up this morning and walk
With her destination unknown
Off she went
Cruising a narrow corridor
Exploring
A tapestry of clothing
A mountain range of dressers
Dusty peaks of exquisite smells
I watched from afar as she grabbed a leg of the old night stand
Balance and Confidence gained within
She looked back as if to say
"Don't fret. I got this!"
She passed a hill of old drop socks
Navigating her way through a maze of Donald Pliner, Ferragamo and Naturalizer boxes
Finally reaching a resting place
Grandma's bed
I couldn't help but to get a twinkle in my eye
My pride
For she is like me
In search of some kind of destiny
Child like Mother
Mother like child
for so long I was a melody
In search of the perfect lyric
God must have bionic hearing
Out of the ash of love confused with lust
he delivered my song
My better half
A life lyric helping to create the ultimate love song
I am her
She is me
My Aries wild child
To my calm Aquarian breeze. 
Energy astound
"When you get blue, I feel it too."
Child like mother
Mother like child
Same (In) dependence
Feeding off a source in order to grow to be free
Wanting to explore the world
Even at an age so mild.

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あの日の君の
強さと

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All you see is my smile

the laughter in my words

my eyes sparkle and crinkle

lines of laughter around my mouth

they tell the story of many joys

looking at me, you may not see

the pain hidden deep inside

behind the eyes too knowing

within the laughter are tears

the smile covers the pain

the words that can never convey

a lifetime of disappointment

broken promises, a bruised heart

you see joy and i feel despair

the humor I show hides the anguish

i sit alone in a room full of people

knowing that hope is dead

love is a farce

and tomorrow's shadows

only bring more of the same

more of the pain

and yet, you won't see

anything but a smile and grin

the emptiness hidden

behind a curtain of lies

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Songbird Sounds

His girl is a sooty hearth;
Igniting her jaw, he wishes her well.
Her teeth less restrained than the soil that chokes him,
She'll move to sedate him until rage screams, far pent.

But she'll claim a mountain for him,
Turning fingers to fists at lowly peaks.

She blows grains from the hourglass;
He skips 'round the clock.
He hums, a mother at wit's end;
Her linens soak salty as lines entice her ear.
His story obscured, electrical, sullied,
He'll wander the mountains, writhe with song.

But he'll vow a garden for her,
Then swallow the earth that preserves her pulse.

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Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note
By Amiri Baraka

Lately, I've become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus...

Things have come to that.

And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.

Nobody sings anymore.

And then last night I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees, peeking into

Her own clasped hands

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Eight rules for writing fiction:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

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I've been trying to sleep,
and all i hear are voices saying disappear,
but its just too bad i'm stuck-- stuck
again.
Running from everything i ever loved, i've tried to love again.
forever gone, seperated, everything i go through is news to you.
its so hard, hard to handle anything on my own. I can't even close my eyes
and fall asleep without your voice in my head.

So take me anywhere, just sing to me,
if it's the only thing you would ever give.
I'm so deep in this feeling, i've felt it before,
but only in your kiss.
I still feel your lips.

this would be easy if i didnt have to know how it all turned out.
something like a secret, some kind of curtain that can leave me in the dark.
I'm not alone, i'm just lonely. hearing some kind of roar, its not my lungs
or a thought. maybe something more.
This would be easier if you wouldnt know a step in the wrong direction.
I've only left you once and had you less than that.
but you're voice is like a bug stuck in my ear. its so far away-- but its all i hear.

So take me anywhere, just sing to me,
if its the only thing you could ever give.
I'm so far in this feeling, i've felt it before,
but only in your kiss, i still feel your lips,
only in your kiss,
only on your lips.

6/30/08 2:07a

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I was eight years old when I learned about the "birds and bees."

It was a sunny afternoon, I had just dropped my backpack down at the front door and went straight to the kitchen for a snack.  My mom was in there getting some stuff ready for dinner, I could hear my little sister in the back room playing with her dolls.

"Mom, what's a 'virgin'?"

She looked up from the stove at me with wide-eyes and then slowly narrowed them, spatula in the air.  Her shoulders slumped and she said, "Give me just a minute here and we'll talk about that.  Where did you hear that word?"

"I was at Bible Class today and they kept talking about 'The Virgin Mary'.  Why did they call her a 'virgin'?  ... Oh and I heard it on a T.V. show the other day too, but that time they were talking about a guy at their school."

She quietly finished making dinner, set it to the side to stay warm and told me to come sit on the couch in the living room.  She brought a pencil and a pad of paper with her.  Man, she meant business.  This was not going to be any explanation.

Curiously I looked at her as I sat down, feeling a bit apprehensive at her seriousness. 

A few diagrams later she had thoroughly explained the female reproductive system, the male reproductive system and how they delicately worked together to make a baby.  Following that was a stern lecture about how this process was meant by God to be an act between a husband and wife that loved each other. 

And then she began to cry. 

Tell an eight-year-old little girl that a penis goes in a vagina to make a baby and THEN start crying... and you have pretty much engraved the moment into her mind forever.  And possibly scared the living day lights out of her.

The reason for the tears was soon explained.  My mother put her hand on my shoulder as tears streamed down her face and said that sometimes people who weren't married fell in love and made babies.  That it was NEVER a mistake, it just wasn't the way God intended it and made it much harder for everyone involved.

A light bulb began to go off in my head.  I realized that most kids probably don't remember their parent's wedding day like I did.  I remember it because I was 3 years old on that day.  And the man I now called "Daddy" didn't actually meet me until I was old enough to know I was the only kid in nursery school that didn't have a daddy.

I looked at my mom and I started to cry too.  "Who is my daddy?"

She hugged me and told me that someday when I was old enough to know, she would tell me more, and if I wanted to meet him, that she would be okay with it.  For now, my Daddy was the man that came to every school program, that took us to the zoo, and who was the only person I wanted when I fell off my bike and skinned my knee.  She said that making a baby didn't make you a daddy... loving a child like they were your own did.

Finally I sighed and wiped my tears, looked back down at the drawing my mother had made me.  An hour or so had passed since I had gotten home from school.  From the drawings I looked back at my mothers face, eyes rimmed red with tears, but with a soft smile on her face. 

"But, I still don't know what 'virgin' means." 

At that, my mother started laughing and so did I.

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As the rooster crowed three times
Peter denied Christ
And I sat reading Plath
Well roosters my friend
they don't crow at night
Moths drawn to burning candles
Like people drawn to bad habits
Trees silhouetted against the sky
to remind us it is not all darkness outside

I know, my style is weird and kind of abstract. Learn to appreciate it I guess heh.

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how odd is it, to be the winner
not the loser, or the sinner,
the one who holds you and understands
the one who gets to hold your hand.
how strange a feeling, is this love?
like a slap, a hit, or a shove,
like something tripped me and made me fall
dont think i've ever quite felt this at all...
and here it is and here you are
like some kind of foreign falling star!
how crazy is this adoration,
something like an extended vacation!
one look at you and my stomach squeezes,
even if we're just shooting breezes.
you walk in the room and my heart stops,
i've half a mind to call the cops!
Its like you just dont even know,
that when you're around, my heart explodes,
and i guess i should just sit down and think,
what about you has me on the brink...
but, you know, i just dont care,
because whatever it is, i want it there...
i like to feel like i'm about to die,
whenever you smile or wink your eye,
i like to feel like i'm on a cloud,
anytime you say my name aloud,
I like to feel like a pinata of glitter,
all because you make my heart flitter.

and although its wierd and semi-whirly
i like the way you make me girly..
but don't tell anyone, or i'll give you a swirly.

and thats just a side note. =]

1:20am
6/13/08

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