Silence

Dear Few New and Faithful Readers,

I apologize for my silence. I have two blogs tap dancing in my mind. For days they’ve been wearing out their metal words tapping and throbbing in my wits. I’m having trouble deciding if telling my truth – is worth it, since the person(s) who motivated it may feel offended. Funny thing is, as I explain it to you now –  I remember why I started this blog in the first place… which means I will have to follow my heart and apologize for how they may take it later. More to come.

Until then, I’ll leave you with a status I posted to my personal Facebook page. Feel free to dance with me.

“It’s 3:45 and I feel like dancing,

’cause I’m Alive.

Dancing to a song with

Meaning,

Until I feel my pores acknowledge its core,

Releasing translated

Microscopic particles of poetry

Until my heart pumps Faster & Harder

Laughing, asking:

Do You FEEL me yet?!”

Good Morning. It’s a New Day!

i was laying in bed this morning reflecting. @ first i thought: “i feel like the old me.” the old “me’s”, no longer in proximity, ‘cause we get caught in the hype, the unnecessary necessity to decrease in complexity, to perpetuate neglect, the spiritual casualties. we lose ourselves working, relationships, and any other imposition that steps in temporarily wiping us out. anyway, it hit me, i never felt like this before. i don’t know this feeling. this is a new me, new ambience. i am present, better, feeling my growth right now & frankly – it is shocking the shit out of me.

my grandmother watched me grow, go through changes and phases. i often missed my cultivation as an individual and would have to look back. today i don’t need a picture of me at ages 2, 16, 21 to realize the metamorphosis. this morning, i am feeling myself (not in a cocky way, but in the I am VITAL & aware kind of way). now I ask you… what do you feel?

Good morning, People.

IT’S TIME TO WAKE UP!

Breaking Free: The E-mail to My Old Landlord

(written and sent via e-mail November 29, 2011)

Dear …,

My life very recently had taken a dramatic turn. Things are starting to look up now. I have a great opportunity, only it’s in a new city. November 2nd, due to stress and depression, I quit my job. My job description changed dramatically. All of the selling and changes occurring with the company, we clearly had no say so, I was merely a number. It was simply – this is your job, although we are piling more work, more stress, you must deal. I couldn’t. Of course that wasn’t a “logical” choice, but I felt I had no other choice (and life I’m sure you can imagine isn’t always logical). I don’t like admitting my depression, or the fact that I’ve contemplated suicide right here in this very apartment because of severe unhappiness. After the car accident September 30th, which was a hit and run, that financially I was responsible for (since the other driver  hit me  then left, I was stuck with the deductible), it became harder for me to piece everything back together – a bit physically and financially. I’m drowning here. In attempt to restore my happiness, ultimately, save my life – I am relocating. I am very much so fleeing because I’ve run out of ideas I think will work for me here.

Despite everything, I did sign a lease. This won’t be the only lease I can’t maintain, I will lose my vehicle soon as well. You may read this thinking it’s a bunch of “mumbo jumbo” and that is totally understandable. I apologize if I’ve wasted your time. I know very well how these binding contracts work. Still, I believe that honesty is the best policy, therefore felt I should explain my leaving abruptly. Before I decided to take the leap forward, I’d applied to tons of jobs here via monster.com, snagajob.com. “You-name-it.com.” I’ve gone to job fairs.  I even applied to work in the shoe department at Macy’s – I was willing to take the step down career-wise to maintain my life here (or lack there of).

If all goes as planned and mentally I’m up to it, I’ll have a job set up for me soon in Virginia and can stay with a very close friend until I get on my feet. Unfortunately, leaving is the only thing that brought me any kind of joy recently. I’m not sure what it’s going to cost me which is why I’m informing you. I have no money at the moment & plan to leave 12/14/11. Please contact me at your convenience with the next steps. I always check e-mails and my telephone number is …

—-

When I signed the lease for the apartment, leased the car I had everything and nothing. A job I hated for four years. A car I adored  because of its color and style; a celestial blue Mazda zoom zooming in the night after a long days work. Arriving to my apartment, an old mansion on Delaware Avenue. I would imagine Dracula lived there before or some early 20th century American Writer.  The house smelled like old carpet and aged wood, almost like an attic would after opening a window. The first floor antiquity, like walking inside of a collector’s item. I loved that wood. I’d whisper to the staircase: “You’re beautiful, I appreciate you.”  I admired the chandeliers despite the dust (I hope they’ve dusted them by now). Eventually I’d make it to the third floor and experience encounters of single happiness … until the alarm on my cell went off and it’s back to work. The ordeal of losing yourself.

Thank you for being both lousy and beautiful. I will remember what you taught me and take not one day for granted. Thank you for causing constant ruptures to my Mentality which lead to the renovation of my Spirit.

Goodbye, Buffalo. This post is for you.

The Love Poem. The Lies. The More is Less.

My very first post was a soppy love poem and I have plenty more where that came from. I made the mistake of sharing the poem with the woman who inspired it. Let’s just say, she didn’t exactly find it flattering. Her first response wasn’t so bad. She acknowledged my feelings, apologized for hurting me and decided to ceasefire (seeing that we haven’t had one actual conversation since she dropped the “I’m Still In Love With My Ex” Missile then I, the F Bomb).  Less than 20 minutes later, I received another response. Immediately I was intrigued. When we first met, our dilemma was communication (which ultimately contributed to our failure). Me – being talkative, loving the idea of two people exchanging viewpoints and … The Mute, who chose to be silent about any and everything that had to do with herself. Of course, when I noticed an e-mail starting with “And another thing” I was shocked: There’s more!

Oh, was there more. The “more” included more anger and less understanding, which leads me to believe she spoke to a friend who chipped in with some bad advice.  Most friends give faulty consultation when it comes to their sidekick’s relationships since, for the most part, they are unaware of the entire story.  Then again, perhaps no one interposed. Maybe she is in fact… bipolar, which is some advice I got from a friend of mine. She cursed, accused me of playing the victim and told me to look in the mirror.

Writers are both loved and loathed for their ability to break people, situations, and locations down they way they see it. If a reader agrees they deem the writer a philosopher, poet, prophet even. When readers disagree, the writer’s pretentious, phony or pathetic. Before I decided to share my opinions with the rest of the bloggers, I cared so much about how my writing would be perceived I stopped altogether. Well, my silent days are over. I’m judged constantly by my appearance, gender, race, diction, sexuality you name it, they’ve claimed it – for me. Now I’m speaking up with the rest of the know-it-all insomniacs with far too many thoughts and too few ears.

As for my now ex- lover, there’s been days when she called me amazing and outstanding, a beautiful soul. After an argument I’m a pompous blabbermouth who’s condescending. Am I both? Do I encompass the duality, like the Yin Yang I got recklessly  tattooed on my left forearm out of unadulterated boredom? Is she really bipolar?

What I always hope to gain from random ramblings is simple. Communi-fuckin-cation.

Today, less talking takes place face to face with text messaging, social networks, e-mail, Voxer (the Walkie Talkie application for cell phones) and any other portholes out there I’m spacey on. Why have we been given the ability to think thus connect, yet we cannot seem to do so despite all the “tools”  naturally and artificially designed to help us do just that? When things were good she’d text or call when I wanted her to, as if the thoughts from my mind were somehow transmitted to hers. When things were bad, I wouldn’t hear from her at all. When I did, it sure wasn’t what I wanted to hear or in most cases see.

Silence is golden and in other instances deadly. Subsequently, the key to loving and understanding anyone is based on each person being a conscious thing, articulating and comprehending beyond the forms of talking, texting or tweeting. The master communicator is the one we tap into subconsciously after our ego’s have gone to bed.  The me she thought was amazing was humble, the me she hated was putting on airs.  Could this be a lesson or just another bad combo?

What She Said.

She said

You’re right, I am still in love.

The confirmation that acted like a detonation

Causing the classic brokenhearted regurgitation

Like acid reflux

Only from the pit of my heart

The dent in my heart

Since it was carelessly digested.

Swallowed whole by the vulture, the zombie, the princess with no soul

The same heart that once gave two fucks

But can’t afford to now

So it spews one big nasty

Fuuuuuck YOUUUU

And it screams

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS!

to love …

You’re addicted to pain,

Like the last bitches who were morbidly insane

Tasha, Ashley, Katie, Melissa

The list keeps going,

Yea, I’m sure you get the picture.

They came before she..

Now she ignores me

Ignores that I adore the her before the lies,

the untarnished,

now grime like shit to flies

First she spoils me then she soils me

What’s next? It’s too late to be coy… with…

me.

Just say you never meant it.

Have the nerve to rightfully,

Righteously kick me to the curb.

After all  I am nothing to no one,

To too many no ones I am nothing.

& they say you can’t get something out of nothing

So the audacity of me

To expect her to see, the me covered in my own extinction

Maybe I’m addicted to the distress

Which makes it hard to relinquish kisses never felt,

Affection hardly if ever shared.

I’m just holding on for dear life

Praying someone’s there who’s

Strong enough

To love the me that hurts and hides inside jokes

While in denial behind smiles

She said she loves what we have and thinks it will grow,

But I’m afraid it will fester

Into bitterness, this we’ll never know ’cause

She’s still in LOOOOOOVE and it ain’t with me.

So I gather my broken heart carefully

Hoping to recycle the cycle.

Another chance to do this dance to a better song.

One where we’ll sing along like Rick James and Tina Marie

Cause there’s….

Fire & desire still inside of me

I’m just not sure where to direct my affections.

I’m in dire need of that connection,

Desperate need of protection,

It’s crucial this love is resurrected but I’m used to rejection.

So be in love with the pain

Until I let you go we’re one in the same.