Today: I cried

I cried today a little bit.  Just a little. I will miss my friend.  It took me about two weeks to finally catch up or muster up the courage to meet him, now he is leaving for Texas.  Ride em' cowboy!!

Ponderings

How come yellow candy taste like yellow, red taste like red, green taste like green, and orange doesn’t taste that orange? And what do colors taste like anyway?  Who took grand liberties to flavor colors? 

I wonder how the big, big woman in my office with the wobble, wobble walk makes love to her husband?  Does she ever get on top and ride him like a tsunami coming in to wash out an entire village? When her love gushes out does her husband get wet?

Why do people seem to think the world solely revolves around them?  Stop making your issues my problem!  We all have problems.  Please file a complaint at I don’t give a rat's pooh, and then call 1-800-waa-waah, and finally email whocares@notme.com

Why do men who are going bald try to hide there baldness with the dreaded side comb-over or even worse comb the hair from the back of their head to the front?  Liberate and shave it off.  VIVA Le Bald!

Buh-t, but-t, buh-t ebeywey

It’s funny how the assimilation of American culture can reach those of the most native tongues.  I used to think I could escape it by surrounding myself with people from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds,hoping that the poison wouldn’t spread so fast.  However, this morning proved the poison is spreading like a new virus hell bent on mass destruction.  From the metro I have to walk about three blocks to my job.  This particular day I was looking snazzy in my nice fitted pencil skirt, blouse, and not too high heels.  I was neatly packaged. 

A quarter of the way into my walk, I heard loud bass bumping slowly escorting me down the sidewalk.  All of a sudden a car pulls up beside me three deep with brothers from some part of the horn of Africa.  One sticks his head out and starts saying real fast, “Buh-t, buh-t, buh-t, buh-t ebeyweh.” I’m thinking to myself what the hell is he saying.  His garbled English reminded me of my two year old cousin who learns a new word and drives everyone crazy repeating it a million times.  Then over his heavy accent utterance I make out the lyrics:

booty booty booty booty rock`n everywhere (3x)
rock`n everywhere (2x)

(Bubba Sparxxx)
i found you Ms New Booty
get it together and bring it back to me
hit the players club for about month or 2
put a tan on it then see what it do (2x)

Now normally I would have been ticked off and gave them the finger.  Yet, this poor man was struggling trying to get the words out.  His head was moving up and down like a dashboard bobble ornament.  My ticked off disbelief turned into outward laughter.  What a way to make my day.  I never thought of myself as new booty.  

Connection

It was unexpected, the meeting of two bodies.

Timidly, we touched briefly for a moment. 

Two strangers getting to know each other.

Then we kissed.  The connection felt familiar and comfortable.  For those few moments into that one hour it seemed like we knew each forever.  I felt comfortable in my skin and his spirit gave to no judgment.  In that space I put all my insecurities of the shelf and allowed myself to fall into him.  I felt safe and comforted.  No need to force things to be more or less than what was experienced, but just easing in the fluid of what was felt. 

Poem for myself

Toil withered contrite sadness

buried deeply in my soul.

Comfort only found in the pain

I don't want to be alone.

Me: Part One

I always had been a big quiet girl. Well not that big but I took up space.  My breast, hips, and thighs boasted of a young woman in her late teens early twenties, but I was just a child of 11.  My mother who prided herself in raising me single-handily had the hard job of protecting her baby girl from predators.  She was the mother eagle who glided above me, far enough for me to gain my independence but close enough to swoop down and sink her talons into predators.

Sometimes I was angry of her eagle like stealth.  Not old enough to understand, I felt like her way of raising me hinder my being.  The bond between us was so strong.  When I hurt she became angry and changed into something I couldn't stand seeing.  At times that anger was spilled over to me and her tears were fierce and quick.  I learned at an early age how to go inside of myself and never tell about anyone who hurt me.
 

Get up girl

Yesterday the earth moved. 
I think she's angry. 
I know for a fact she is angry and highly pissed off. 
Or maybe shaking was her way of getting my attention. 
She shook me right out of my seat and to my feet. 
I stood waiting and listening. 
She didn't say a word.
She just shook with such anger and attentiveness. 
"Get up girl"she bellowed. 
MOVE!