Sometimes it takes me a minute to realize that I’m being slighted in some way when it actually happens. I just re-read that sentence and it doesn’t look right but it’s what I think I’m trying to say so I will try to break it down. I am used to folks being direct not this passive aggressive backhanded compliment shit. When I don’t like something I say I don’t like it. And if my opinion is asked I am assuming that you aren’t soliciting a lie. So when you tell me something I’ve done appeals to you or that you liked what I said or how I said it, I tend to take it as honesty because in my line of logic I’m thinking who would volunteer a lie? And why would you voluntarily offer up false praise when you could have just said nothing. Oh well, I keep forgetting I’m a little different and when I remember I shrug it off like an itchy sweater. I mean I am of the mind that if you are over forty and haven’t learned that some people are mean, and mean people suck and if at forty plus you haven’t developed a sense of humor that can filter through bullshit leaving your self esteem in tact? Well, I don’t know what to tell you.
So, someone I dealt with briefly just found out about my attack of lesbianism. He was a part of my life when unhappiness led to acting out. My first marriage one of guilt and denial my open act of I’M NOT GAY resistance. Jumping from my first love, a woman, into the guy I ruined to prove my straightness. I had affairs, and other things and I still wasn’t happy so this encounter and I am left east of knocked up and not sure who belonged to who as I was so entangled. I wanted children so now I had one. I was also always clear that, if need be, I could raise my children myself. So the donor, mind you no test has been taken to make sure, twenty-two years later has issues. Mind you my daughter is clear about her parents her mother and the second husband her father who raised her. So, I’ll amend the alleged donor calls her, my daughter, when he finds out that I am one of them.
He has a fit. Makes comments like she should have been raised by him cause he ain’t no punk.? Still not sure what that means but you who know me know my fist instinct was to laugh. Like me being me is a detriment to raising children. Crazy! I had pretty much let that go until I overheard someone saying, “She’s a homosexual you know.” The way it was said made it sound so sketch. And I know they maybe weren’t talking about me (who am I kidding there was pointing for fucks sake). It made me think of the donor and the church lady and the preacher and all the other encounters with folks that want to judge me by my sexuality.
I find it sad and funny that those who bark so loud about my unfitness as a parent have children so fucked up therapy would be a band-aid. My kids are not perfect. And even if they make the same mistakes I did or create brand new ones as long as they learn from them all will be good. As of now, no one has gone to jail, nobody’s knocked up and they love learning!
I am not perfect and my kids know the imperfections well, I tend to wear them on my tongue, so I have no fear of them waking up one day feeling like their mother was a liar.
And I have lied about many things, my favorite was pretending to be deaf and listening to this guy on the bus telling me all the nasty things he wanted to do to me. It was tough not showing the disgust on my face, and later there was a knee to the groin and running. Thank the Goddess for track. You live, you learn. I don’t lie about the things that are important especially when it comes to my kids. And I would appreciate it if when you judge me for being gay, we just stick to the gay. When you judge my parenting, just judge my parenting. And should you be so inclined to mix the two, have the goddamn decency to not cry or bitch when you recognize yourself in a poem or in a blatant statement like, oh I don’t know this one. I didn’t include your names cause this is your freebie. Your only freebie;-)
Have a lovely!
*written without editing forgive the rambling, or don't...
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Kaiser Permanete...... and Patient Care.. that shit don't go together....!
So what am I paying for? I am not sure most days. I called in the prescription and as usual I went to pick it up the next day. The irony that it is the eve of my father’s death from the same condition I have and that he was also a Kaiser victim isn’t lost on me. So I get there and they tell me that my prescription will not be filled the doctor said I have to have an appointment before they refill my prescription. I ask “Why didn’t someone call me to tell me this?” They shrug; I go to make an appointment. They tell me the soonest appointment is next Wednesday. They give me an appointment card. I take it to the pharmacy and they give me three pills. I tell them that my appointment is a week away and I’m pretty sure that’s seven days. How exactly are three pills supposed to cover that? The pharmacy chick says she has to talk to her manager. Then she tells me that I have to get an “emergency prescription” for the other days.
I go back to the appointment desk relay the message and she tells me they don’t do that. I go back to the pharmacist and they say “well there’s nothing we can do.” I go back to the appointment desk, relay yet another message and I say. “Maybe I’m confused. You say I have to take this everyday. I have an appointment a week away, four of those days I will not take a pill so if I stroke out on day, let’s say five can I get the rest of my prescription then. Or how about, if this conversation keeps going the way it is an my pressure shoots up right now can I get a prescription then or will it work better for you if I died tomorrow, that way my dad and I can both have the same death day anniversary proud Kaiser Permente patience heightened by the fact that we both went out the same way.” She picks up a phone and calls somebody. My phone rings. I answer. It’s my sister I say loudly in the crowded waiting room, “ Let me call you back, Kaiser is trying to kill me right now.” I hang up.
Then the woman says, and, pay attention because if it makes sense to you maybe you can explain it to me. She says, “We can’t give you an appointment until Wednesday, but if you call in the morning they can give you an appointment the same day.” I say,”Then why can’t you just give me an appointment for in the morning?” She said, and I quote, “We can’t do that.” I say,” That makes absolutely no sense. You can’t give me a prescription to last until my appointment, and you can’t make me an appointment tomorrow but if I call tomorrow I can get one tomorrow and the three pills should last me until then because giving me the medication you prescribed would ensure that I can indeed make it to the appointment on Wednesday but you can’t do that.” My phone rings. It’s my friend. I say, “ Let me try to call you back. I am at Kaiser where they are planning my death and depending on how this goes I may or may not call you back.” Yes I say it loudly. She, the woman picks up a phone and calls somebody.
Then she says, “ A doctor will see you right now.” I glare at her tell her though my pressure is up I will do my best not to stroke out in the waiting room.” Then she reminds me that I need to pay 35 bucks….
When they asked me did I have a pleasant visit at Kaiser today I said, “No. It was fucked up and felt a little like pre-meditated murder, but thanks for asking.”
I don’t understand how you can keep a straight face while spewing complete bullshit. I mean I do know it is done I hear it weekly at an open mic here or there , but I still don’t understand it and this just seemed extra dumbass.. This has been a bad customer service week for me let’s just hope the muses have had their fun and I get a scathing, bad ass poem out of it. It could happen.
I go back to the appointment desk relay the message and she tells me they don’t do that. I go back to the pharmacist and they say “well there’s nothing we can do.” I go back to the appointment desk, relay yet another message and I say. “Maybe I’m confused. You say I have to take this everyday. I have an appointment a week away, four of those days I will not take a pill so if I stroke out on day, let’s say five can I get the rest of my prescription then. Or how about, if this conversation keeps going the way it is an my pressure shoots up right now can I get a prescription then or will it work better for you if I died tomorrow, that way my dad and I can both have the same death day anniversary proud Kaiser Permente patience heightened by the fact that we both went out the same way.” She picks up a phone and calls somebody. My phone rings. I answer. It’s my sister I say loudly in the crowded waiting room, “ Let me call you back, Kaiser is trying to kill me right now.” I hang up.
Then the woman says, and, pay attention because if it makes sense to you maybe you can explain it to me. She says, “We can’t give you an appointment until Wednesday, but if you call in the morning they can give you an appointment the same day.” I say,”Then why can’t you just give me an appointment for in the morning?” She said, and I quote, “We can’t do that.” I say,” That makes absolutely no sense. You can’t give me a prescription to last until my appointment, and you can’t make me an appointment tomorrow but if I call tomorrow I can get one tomorrow and the three pills should last me until then because giving me the medication you prescribed would ensure that I can indeed make it to the appointment on Wednesday but you can’t do that.” My phone rings. It’s my friend. I say, “ Let me try to call you back. I am at Kaiser where they are planning my death and depending on how this goes I may or may not call you back.” Yes I say it loudly. She, the woman picks up a phone and calls somebody.
Then she says, “ A doctor will see you right now.” I glare at her tell her though my pressure is up I will do my best not to stroke out in the waiting room.” Then she reminds me that I need to pay 35 bucks….
When they asked me did I have a pleasant visit at Kaiser today I said, “No. It was fucked up and felt a little like pre-meditated murder, but thanks for asking.”
I don’t understand how you can keep a straight face while spewing complete bullshit. I mean I do know it is done I hear it weekly at an open mic here or there , but I still don’t understand it and this just seemed extra dumbass.. This has been a bad customer service week for me let’s just hope the muses have had their fun and I get a scathing, bad ass poem out of it. It could happen.
Monday, February 07, 2011
of my dreams
shrugging off external judgements
the paint heavy slaps on canvas
living in each others pockets
moved by these sensations
no what ifs
no what might have been
just now
the gaping hole in my chest
shows all I have to offer
all I’m willing to give
acceptance proudly reflected
in toast colored eyes
no polluted apologies
rooted
firmly fixed in a smile
still learning the way
still feeling the earth turn
slender fingers cradle
coffee mornings
between forefinger and thumb
hanging on words draped in silence
the paint heavy slaps on canvas
living in each others pockets
moved by these sensations
no what ifs
no what might have been
just now
the gaping hole in my chest
shows all I have to offer
all I’m willing to give
acceptance proudly reflected
in toast colored eyes
no polluted apologies
rooted
firmly fixed in a smile
still learning the way
still feeling the earth turn
slender fingers cradle
coffee mornings
between forefinger and thumb
hanging on words draped in silence
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
amnesia
yeah, i don't have it. sadly i remember way more than i care to and i have no desire to delete details for the sakes of others. i have made plenty mistakes let words leak from my face without thinking and i own that. i don't pretend it never happened and i don't gloss over deals made big because of my actions. so i always find it interesting when folks try to do that with me. i mean i guess i get it, cart before the heart and all, but if i don't go with it...then what?
Saturday, January 15, 2011
On the Tooth Fairy and Other Highly Sensitive Subjects
This is an article I wrote for a school publication back in the 90’s.
as i am a terrible typist... there are errors;-)
On the Tooth Fairy and Other Highly Sensitive Subjects
While working with the young minds of the future some of their questions have filled me with hope. Other comments have scared me to death. Watching them imitate life, assume ideas, change their minds, wet their pants make friends and pick their noses has changed the way I see some things.
Many issues are raised and questions asked about the mysteries and wonders of life in my classroom. Deep profound questions like “Why does poop stink?” That was an easy one, and I was glad to answer it. I grossed them out so bad the question didn’t reappear for many years.
Occasionally, I get that one question that I know the answer to, but to answer would lead to other uncomfortable questions that maybe a parent should answer like: “Where do babies come from?” fortunately for me I have been blessed to have in my classroom that one child, who while is much younger than I, has lived and knows everything.
“Where do babies come from? You don’t know that?” This is the usual first response, which usually gets a “Yeah,” or “Please, I knew that since I was four” comment. The asker of the question still waits for an answer, while the know-it-all decides whether he or she is too learned to answer such juvenile questions. After all he or she is a second grader and could be to busy to deal with such drivel. I fade into the background to hear their theories of the world.
One year when this particular question came up they came close to the right answer. Someone knew there was an egg. While I squirmed in my seat hoping and praying they wouldn’t ask me where it was, the know-it-all of that year went on to say, “When the menstruation doesn’t happen, the egg is laid.” Her hand on what would one day be a hip.
I giggled mostly in fear, because I had no idea what would come out of her mouth next. “The mommy doesn’t have a menstruation for a lot of months, I think it’s like thirty-six, then she goes to the doctor and has her baby.” A little off but very well done I thought to myself hoping again the ball wouldn’t land in my court. “My mom says you can take it back if it’s not the right one.” Another student says and before I can interject the little miss know-it-all pipes in, “Your mother lied to you!”
Listening carefully I realize the proverbial cat is about to be let out of the bag.
“She did not! My mother doesn’t lie to me!” he shouts back at her.
“Please.” Preached Little Miss Know-It-All, “Adults lie to children all the time. Lie telling you if you eat your vegetables you’ll grow up big and strong, when all the vegetarians I know are skinny and scrawny. Like when they say the shot won’t hurt? It does!”
She paused, and I thought now would be a good time to go outside for some fresh air, but she wasn’t finished. “I bet you still believe in Santa Clause, don’t you?” Faces throughout the room looked shocked and shattered.
I stood up and spoke, “People have a right to believe what they believe, respect and don’t mess with that.” A sigh of relief seemed to flow through the room. That’s when I realized that I have exposed myself, and watching Little Miss Know-It-All, I see that she sees it too. I am now standing on that spot some of us don’t like to be standing on.
“Have you ever lied to you children Mrs. Theresa?”
I broke out in a small, but not to obvious sweat. “About what?” I recovered, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“Do your children think that there is a Santa Clause, Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy?”
My eyes widened as I prepared to be exposed like all of the other parents who were not there to witness our demise at the hands of a seven, I mean seven-and-a-half year old. Just as I was about to respond, not exactly sure of what I was going to say. My daughter, who had been sitting quietly, spoke up.
“My mother doesn’t lie to us! We don’t celebrate Christmas we celebrate Kwanzaa our ancestors bring us gifts. And if I am sitting there dying eggs, why would I believe a big rabbit brings them to me?”
A series of, “Yeah! See you don’t know everything rises from the crowd of second and third graders.
“Line up.” I say sending the class scrambling to be the first in line to go outside. Little Miss Know-It-All turned to look at me, her head cocked to the side, then turned to my daughter and said, “What about the Tooth Fairy?”
The hairs on the back of my neck did a dance. My daughter stood up, looked her right in the eyes and said, “When I lose a tooth, my mom puts it in an envelope, and the next day I have two dollars. Of course I believe in the Tooth Fairy!” Then she bounced away to line up with her friends.
Just then I felt a tug on my jacket. A very reassured Little Miss Know-It-All wearing an evil little grin looked at me and said, “I told you. Adults lie to children.”
as i am a terrible typist... there are errors;-)
On the Tooth Fairy and Other Highly Sensitive Subjects
While working with the young minds of the future some of their questions have filled me with hope. Other comments have scared me to death. Watching them imitate life, assume ideas, change their minds, wet their pants make friends and pick their noses has changed the way I see some things.
Many issues are raised and questions asked about the mysteries and wonders of life in my classroom. Deep profound questions like “Why does poop stink?” That was an easy one, and I was glad to answer it. I grossed them out so bad the question didn’t reappear for many years.
Occasionally, I get that one question that I know the answer to, but to answer would lead to other uncomfortable questions that maybe a parent should answer like: “Where do babies come from?” fortunately for me I have been blessed to have in my classroom that one child, who while is much younger than I, has lived and knows everything.
“Where do babies come from? You don’t know that?” This is the usual first response, which usually gets a “Yeah,” or “Please, I knew that since I was four” comment. The asker of the question still waits for an answer, while the know-it-all decides whether he or she is too learned to answer such juvenile questions. After all he or she is a second grader and could be to busy to deal with such drivel. I fade into the background to hear their theories of the world.
One year when this particular question came up they came close to the right answer. Someone knew there was an egg. While I squirmed in my seat hoping and praying they wouldn’t ask me where it was, the know-it-all of that year went on to say, “When the menstruation doesn’t happen, the egg is laid.” Her hand on what would one day be a hip.
I giggled mostly in fear, because I had no idea what would come out of her mouth next. “The mommy doesn’t have a menstruation for a lot of months, I think it’s like thirty-six, then she goes to the doctor and has her baby.” A little off but very well done I thought to myself hoping again the ball wouldn’t land in my court. “My mom says you can take it back if it’s not the right one.” Another student says and before I can interject the little miss know-it-all pipes in, “Your mother lied to you!”
Listening carefully I realize the proverbial cat is about to be let out of the bag.
“She did not! My mother doesn’t lie to me!” he shouts back at her.
“Please.” Preached Little Miss Know-It-All, “Adults lie to children all the time. Lie telling you if you eat your vegetables you’ll grow up big and strong, when all the vegetarians I know are skinny and scrawny. Like when they say the shot won’t hurt? It does!”
She paused, and I thought now would be a good time to go outside for some fresh air, but she wasn’t finished. “I bet you still believe in Santa Clause, don’t you?” Faces throughout the room looked shocked and shattered.
I stood up and spoke, “People have a right to believe what they believe, respect and don’t mess with that.” A sigh of relief seemed to flow through the room. That’s when I realized that I have exposed myself, and watching Little Miss Know-It-All, I see that she sees it too. I am now standing on that spot some of us don’t like to be standing on.
“Have you ever lied to you children Mrs. Theresa?”
I broke out in a small, but not to obvious sweat. “About what?” I recovered, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“Do your children think that there is a Santa Clause, Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy?”
My eyes widened as I prepared to be exposed like all of the other parents who were not there to witness our demise at the hands of a seven, I mean seven-and-a-half year old. Just as I was about to respond, not exactly sure of what I was going to say. My daughter, who had been sitting quietly, spoke up.
“My mother doesn’t lie to us! We don’t celebrate Christmas we celebrate Kwanzaa our ancestors bring us gifts. And if I am sitting there dying eggs, why would I believe a big rabbit brings them to me?”
A series of, “Yeah! See you don’t know everything rises from the crowd of second and third graders.
“Line up.” I say sending the class scrambling to be the first in line to go outside. Little Miss Know-It-All turned to look at me, her head cocked to the side, then turned to my daughter and said, “What about the Tooth Fairy?”
The hairs on the back of my neck did a dance. My daughter stood up, looked her right in the eyes and said, “When I lose a tooth, my mom puts it in an envelope, and the next day I have two dollars. Of course I believe in the Tooth Fairy!” Then she bounced away to line up with her friends.
Just then I felt a tug on my jacket. A very reassured Little Miss Know-It-All wearing an evil little grin looked at me and said, “I told you. Adults lie to children.”
Sunday, January 09, 2011
a note to would be wanna be superheroes
I get it. I mean we all have had those moments when we imagine ourselves hero and sometimes dare I say superhero. In fantasy world it’s great! We have super speed, we can pick shit up that’s ridiculously heavy and toss it like so much salad, but in reality world, we know this is not the case. I mean, we do know this? Don’t we?
Every year in my classroom I do a unit on superheroes. We discuss character traits, strengths, weakness and the difference between hero and superhero. We acknowledge the heroes in our lives our communities. Firefighters, police officers, the neighborhood crack head that doesn’t let anyone fuck with you. Citizens who protect and serve not looking for praise or celebrity. Who also go through training and know exactly how to carry out their jobs without endangering themselves or other, possibly with the exception of the crack head.
So like, you know how in pretend land, the hero, because in pretend land unless you have a super power like flying, melting shit with your eyes or sense tingling you were a hero or a vigilante. Vigilantes are those dudes or chicks that take shit into their own hands when no one asked them too. clearing throat
ANY WHO, in pretend land have you ever seen, oh I don’t know, Spiderman or Batman do an interview on, SAY, Good Morning America or the Today show? No, No you don’t! And do you know why? Because it’s a fucking secret! Yes they run around in garish costumes with shiny gadgets but that shit is on the low, because just like there are those guys that wanna do good there are those who have no problem running a train on good. So when you go on television and tell people how you used to do this at your last job but folks felt some kind of way, you are telling folks who you are. The point of a secret identity is…it’s supposed to stay secret??? Keep up!!
So in for real world American’s are slipping further and further from reality so I can see how you can mix up pretend and real world from time to time. But in the real world when you get shot no stunt real life dude guy takes the bullet for you. And if you don’t have super powers you are not a super hero. Movies aren’t real and neither is television, sometimes even the news. I know (rubbing your back), it is it’s a hard pill to swallow and I really hope you don’t end up dead because you went public like a dumb ass.
In teaching my Superhero Unit (hands on hips, profile looking fly) what happens is that when students have to take into account character, and that you don’t help people for fame or glory, that how knowing the right thing to do is hard many of them ask to create a villain. We talk about how easy it is to be the villain. No accountability is appealing to them; not having to consider the impact on others is a draw to the darker side. I don’t let them take the easy out in my classroom, but there are plenty of folks who take the easy out in this world. How else does a grown man stab a teenage boy to death in a crowded place over a cell phone?
I think it’s noble to wanna help folks but if you are helping not realizing the danger you are putting yourself in a reality check may be in order….just saying
Every year in my classroom I do a unit on superheroes. We discuss character traits, strengths, weakness and the difference between hero and superhero. We acknowledge the heroes in our lives our communities. Firefighters, police officers, the neighborhood crack head that doesn’t let anyone fuck with you. Citizens who protect and serve not looking for praise or celebrity. Who also go through training and know exactly how to carry out their jobs without endangering themselves or other, possibly with the exception of the crack head.
So like, you know how in pretend land, the hero, because in pretend land unless you have a super power like flying, melting shit with your eyes or sense tingling you were a hero or a vigilante. Vigilantes are those dudes or chicks that take shit into their own hands when no one asked them too. clearing throat
ANY WHO, in pretend land have you ever seen, oh I don’t know, Spiderman or Batman do an interview on, SAY, Good Morning America or the Today show? No, No you don’t! And do you know why? Because it’s a fucking secret! Yes they run around in garish costumes with shiny gadgets but that shit is on the low, because just like there are those guys that wanna do good there are those who have no problem running a train on good. So when you go on television and tell people how you used to do this at your last job but folks felt some kind of way, you are telling folks who you are. The point of a secret identity is…it’s supposed to stay secret??? Keep up!!
So in for real world American’s are slipping further and further from reality so I can see how you can mix up pretend and real world from time to time. But in the real world when you get shot no stunt real life dude guy takes the bullet for you. And if you don’t have super powers you are not a super hero. Movies aren’t real and neither is television, sometimes even the news. I know (rubbing your back), it is it’s a hard pill to swallow and I really hope you don’t end up dead because you went public like a dumb ass.
In teaching my Superhero Unit (hands on hips, profile looking fly) what happens is that when students have to take into account character, and that you don’t help people for fame or glory, that how knowing the right thing to do is hard many of them ask to create a villain. We talk about how easy it is to be the villain. No accountability is appealing to them; not having to consider the impact on others is a draw to the darker side. I don’t let them take the easy out in my classroom, but there are plenty of folks who take the easy out in this world. How else does a grown man stab a teenage boy to death in a crowded place over a cell phone?
I think it’s noble to wanna help folks but if you are helping not realizing the danger you are putting yourself in a reality check may be in order….just saying
Thursday, January 06, 2011
ouch!
(i am avoiding caps and some punctuation on purpose. if you don't like it, oh well)
look it's not that i'm a wuss, this shit just really hurts. it's the kind of pain that makes you do shit like get really still a listen for your heart beat, cause surly it is in distress. the dentist has never been my favorite but, no that's actually it. i was going to say something hallmarkey but yeah, i don't mean it. i'm looking at the home instructions and i guess this is bone bruising. the kind under your skin and in your face. i should have taken some days off i know but i'm stubborn and kinda ridiculous when it comes to my responsibilities at times. remember i'm the chick who went back to work with child in tow three days after having him... don't judge me?? besides you don't have a dry erase board and decimal points so that shit don't count.
so i've been on a liquid diet for several days now and i'm kinda sad but grateful no ones come by to check on me cause i can feel my inner bitch getting restless. she's a steak kinda chick and this soup and applesauce diet is not hitting the spot.
ok, on to other things before the pain killers kick in good and this stuff starts making less sense than it might make now. i made a few promises to myself this year and i am determined to make good on them.
1. stop smoking (so far so good smoke free since 1/2)
2. lose a few pounds (so far so good 3 lbs since 1/2)
3. i will take better care of myself.
now this means a lot of different things. health and heart have a lot to do with this. aside from the obvious with the smoking and other vices that are also being curtailed i have to learn to walk away from some things and some people. people like smoking, and other vices can turn toxic.
4. blog more (i'm doing that shit right now ...what!!)
5. tour.
this one is tricky but i really want this for myself. it took me a long time to find this art form and i love it and i love sharing and i need to get out and just do it. but unlike tiger woods i shall not get caught!
6. deepen my friendships.
7. fall in love.
now i know what you're thinking, YOU CAN'T SCHEDULE STUFF LIKE THAT!! WHAT KIND OF PROMISE IS THAT!! well i will tell you what, i can. lol, i guess i should amend it to open my heart to the possibility of falling in love. so i will.
7a. open myself up to the possibility of falling in love.
it took a week of listening to my own heart and voice. inside my own personal temple of solitude to actually think about how much i've been hurt in the past. how i've shelved my true heart for a while, cause i refused to let the clumsy lovers in my life damage it further. now there have been two maybe three who have figured out where i hide the step stool and they actually held it (my heart, metaphorically of course) and then something happens and maybe it's a little thing but i re-shelve and hide the fucking stool.
wooo,i think the painkillers are starting to work the whole room kinda shifted...
8. finish my book and film concepts/projects.
9. throw my baby the biggest party ever when she becomes the first of my mother's grandchildren to graduate from college.
10. continue to be me.
i know people think i should act my age and what i have to say to those people is, fuck you, you act MY age since you seem to know a hell of a lot more about it than i do. and what is that? you're uncomfortable because i enjoy my life? because i live my life? i love myself and it took a long time to get here and guess what I'M NOT FUCKING LEAVING! not until it's time for me to and those who can't adjust to my fabulousness that boarders on brilliant bouncing off of wrong, oh well.. ok starting to feel like i'm not making sense so....ta dahlings!!!!
look it's not that i'm a wuss, this shit just really hurts. it's the kind of pain that makes you do shit like get really still a listen for your heart beat, cause surly it is in distress. the dentist has never been my favorite but, no that's actually it. i was going to say something hallmarkey but yeah, i don't mean it. i'm looking at the home instructions and i guess this is bone bruising. the kind under your skin and in your face. i should have taken some days off i know but i'm stubborn and kinda ridiculous when it comes to my responsibilities at times. remember i'm the chick who went back to work with child in tow three days after having him... don't judge me?? besides you don't have a dry erase board and decimal points so that shit don't count.
so i've been on a liquid diet for several days now and i'm kinda sad but grateful no ones come by to check on me cause i can feel my inner bitch getting restless. she's a steak kinda chick and this soup and applesauce diet is not hitting the spot.
ok, on to other things before the pain killers kick in good and this stuff starts making less sense than it might make now. i made a few promises to myself this year and i am determined to make good on them.
1. stop smoking (so far so good smoke free since 1/2)
2. lose a few pounds (so far so good 3 lbs since 1/2)
3. i will take better care of myself.
now this means a lot of different things. health and heart have a lot to do with this. aside from the obvious with the smoking and other vices that are also being curtailed i have to learn to walk away from some things and some people. people like smoking, and other vices can turn toxic.
4. blog more (i'm doing that shit right now ...what!!)
5. tour.
this one is tricky but i really want this for myself. it took me a long time to find this art form and i love it and i love sharing and i need to get out and just do it. but unlike tiger woods i shall not get caught!
6. deepen my friendships.
7. fall in love.
now i know what you're thinking, YOU CAN'T SCHEDULE STUFF LIKE THAT!! WHAT KIND OF PROMISE IS THAT!! well i will tell you what, i can. lol, i guess i should amend it to open my heart to the possibility of falling in love. so i will.
7a. open myself up to the possibility of falling in love.
it took a week of listening to my own heart and voice. inside my own personal temple of solitude to actually think about how much i've been hurt in the past. how i've shelved my true heart for a while, cause i refused to let the clumsy lovers in my life damage it further. now there have been two maybe three who have figured out where i hide the step stool and they actually held it (my heart, metaphorically of course) and then something happens and maybe it's a little thing but i re-shelve and hide the fucking stool.
wooo,i think the painkillers are starting to work the whole room kinda shifted...
8. finish my book and film concepts/projects.
9. throw my baby the biggest party ever when she becomes the first of my mother's grandchildren to graduate from college.
10. continue to be me.
i know people think i should act my age and what i have to say to those people is, fuck you, you act MY age since you seem to know a hell of a lot more about it than i do. and what is that? you're uncomfortable because i enjoy my life? because i live my life? i love myself and it took a long time to get here and guess what I'M NOT FUCKING LEAVING! not until it's time for me to and those who can't adjust to my fabulousness that boarders on brilliant bouncing off of wrong, oh well.. ok starting to feel like i'm not making sense so....ta dahlings!!!!
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
the most insane stupid song in my universe
So, over the holiday I was forced to listen to the radio. The books I usually listen to were too mature for the boy so I folded and to the radio we did listen. For three days. And for three days I heard the same, maybe 12 songs, in rotation. But it seemed in every rotation the song Grenade was playing. At first, I thought it was a joke, but then scarily my children started singing along and I realized they liked it? I was confused, I mean they did come from my womb? Right? So maybe, I thought, I am being to judgmental, to serious I was not looking at the complete picture and therefore questioning my children's pedigree was to hasty. They could still be my children if this song is as ass-backwards stupid as it sounds to me, this could be another one of those genetic things they got from their dad...yeah, that's it... So I listened.... over, and over and over again. What I surmised is that this song is, to my translation, about a self-loathing, narcissist with suicidal tendencies and a low self esteem. Which translates further into NOT SEXY and EXTREMELY DUMB!
Let's pick it apart shall we.....
Easy come, easy go
That's just how you live, oh
Take, take, take it all,
But you never give
Should of known you was trouble from the first kiss,
Had your eyes wide open, Why were they open?
~Well if it's easy come, easy go then you accuse me of being selfish, I'm gonna keep my eyes open to watch your ass because I have stepped into some stalker shit and quite possibly don't know how to get out of it...yet!
Gave you all I had
And you tossed it in the trash
You tossed it in the trash, you did
To give me all your love is all I ever asked,
Cause what you don't understand is
I’d catch a grenade for ya
Throw my hand on a blade for ya
I’d jump in front of a train for ya
You know I'd do anything for ya
Oh, oh I would go through all this pain,
Take a bullet straight through my brain,
Yes, I would die for ya baby;
But you won't do the same
~Ok, now is where crazy really comes out. So you gave me all you had, wouldn't that be a choice thing something you chose to do. And all you asked for was ALL of my love....that's it? ALL of it followed by telling me how you would self emulate for me after you already accused me of throwing your love in the trash and you're mad because i won't kill myself? What FIRST? Imean if you're serious why not take the grenade, blade, train, and bullet, and then if you survive, oh wait you said you would die for me.. But wait? if I love you wouldn't I want us to live!! PLEASE...BABY,BABY Can we live!!!! So, am I a bad person because I don't think death is an expression of love??? Then this part...
Black, black, black and blue beat me till I'm numb
Tell the devil I said “hey” when you get back to where you're from
Are you implying I'm from hell or I should go to hell?????? And do you find abusive relationships that leave you black and blue attractive????
If my body was on fire, ooh
You’ d watch me burn down in flames
You said you loved me you're a liar
~Now, hey wait a minute. If you caught on fire, unless it was some spontaneous combustion, divine type shit of course I'd put you out... oh wait, who you calling a liar???
The song is a hot mess. But I does bring into focus why some of these youth I work with think that these transitional relationships that they are in at 12, 13, 14 and 15 are so intense and forever. Why they fight over people who don't want them. That whole Romeo and Juliet romance thing. Hell y'all, if you read the book you'd see that shit was a mistake. You can't prove to someone how much you love them by hurting yourself. And if you truly think dying for someone is the way to get the girl or dude...I'ma need you to think that through all the way to the end...just saying!!
Ok, kiddies, the pain killers are finally kicking in...HOLLER!!
Let's pick it apart shall we.....
Easy come, easy go
That's just how you live, oh
Take, take, take it all,
But you never give
Should of known you was trouble from the first kiss,
Had your eyes wide open, Why were they open?
~Well if it's easy come, easy go then you accuse me of being selfish, I'm gonna keep my eyes open to watch your ass because I have stepped into some stalker shit and quite possibly don't know how to get out of it...yet!
Gave you all I had
And you tossed it in the trash
You tossed it in the trash, you did
To give me all your love is all I ever asked,
Cause what you don't understand is
I’d catch a grenade for ya
Throw my hand on a blade for ya
I’d jump in front of a train for ya
You know I'd do anything for ya
Oh, oh I would go through all this pain,
Take a bullet straight through my brain,
Yes, I would die for ya baby;
But you won't do the same
~Ok, now is where crazy really comes out. So you gave me all you had, wouldn't that be a choice thing something you chose to do. And all you asked for was ALL of my love....that's it? ALL of it followed by telling me how you would self emulate for me after you already accused me of throwing your love in the trash and you're mad because i won't kill myself? What FIRST? Imean if you're serious why not take the grenade, blade, train, and bullet, and then if you survive, oh wait you said you would die for me.. But wait? if I love you wouldn't I want us to live!! PLEASE...BABY,BABY Can we live!!!! So, am I a bad person because I don't think death is an expression of love??? Then this part...
Black, black, black and blue beat me till I'm numb
Tell the devil I said “hey” when you get back to where you're from
Are you implying I'm from hell or I should go to hell?????? And do you find abusive relationships that leave you black and blue attractive????
If my body was on fire, ooh
You’ d watch me burn down in flames
You said you loved me you're a liar
~Now, hey wait a minute. If you caught on fire, unless it was some spontaneous combustion, divine type shit of course I'd put you out... oh wait, who you calling a liar???
The song is a hot mess. But I does bring into focus why some of these youth I work with think that these transitional relationships that they are in at 12, 13, 14 and 15 are so intense and forever. Why they fight over people who don't want them. That whole Romeo and Juliet romance thing. Hell y'all, if you read the book you'd see that shit was a mistake. You can't prove to someone how much you love them by hurting yourself. And if you truly think dying for someone is the way to get the girl or dude...I'ma need you to think that through all the way to the end...just saying!!
Ok, kiddies, the pain killers are finally kicking in...HOLLER!!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
hamster wheels
i know better than to expect change in anyone else. people don't change, circumstances do and the person can move within that. what is it about us that makes us crave another just to try to change them? i made a mistake. tried to tempt fate go back in time. for this i will be plagued by what if. i made the decision. one i can't take back, but to end it now, even though feelings will be hurt and i run the risk of being hated by one i used to love, it's what must be done. for a year we tried, and failed each other, and now we must move on.
Monday, November 08, 2010
November 30/30 #1
This is kinda all over the place
Shelf-life (Nov. 1/30)
Stoic sits on a shelf
Aged with ferocious unfocused eyes
He stills truth
Steals time
Tucks it between his teeth
Bites down on the word sissy
Once worn as his name
Wiped away with punch line fists
Sensitivity decorating the floor
Swept under rugs
By wayward domestic dogs
Lapping up what’s left
Confrontationally straight forward
I am angry with those starters of wars
Hijacking my safety
And hallelujah tears have no place on my landscape
No claim to this face
Because he, my father
And he can’t smell pussy on my breath
He reminds me daily that I am no man
His strong provider legs took it out on my chest
He burned the fruitcake cooking in my mother’s nurturing
I refuse to hold the softness of her
She doesn’t understand that decency
Gets you gone
Good posture
Only puts your face bulls eye level for blows
Ass kicked in locker room, street corners or alleys
He reminds me I am no man
Can’t smell pussy on my breath
So he makes it my middle name
My mother’s baby boy
Wrapped in soft, sensitivity and good posture
Can’t live in the skin she wrapped me in
And the world won’t accept me
Unless I’m hard
So I’ll be stoic
Put my emotions on lock down
Place myself on a shelf
Out of reach
Until I expire
Shelf-life (Nov. 1/30)
Stoic sits on a shelf
Aged with ferocious unfocused eyes
He stills truth
Steals time
Tucks it between his teeth
Bites down on the word sissy
Once worn as his name
Wiped away with punch line fists
Sensitivity decorating the floor
Swept under rugs
By wayward domestic dogs
Lapping up what’s left
Confrontationally straight forward
I am angry with those starters of wars
Hijacking my safety
And hallelujah tears have no place on my landscape
No claim to this face
Because he, my father
And he can’t smell pussy on my breath
He reminds me daily that I am no man
His strong provider legs took it out on my chest
He burned the fruitcake cooking in my mother’s nurturing
I refuse to hold the softness of her
She doesn’t understand that decency
Gets you gone
Good posture
Only puts your face bulls eye level for blows
Ass kicked in locker room, street corners or alleys
He reminds me I am no man
Can’t smell pussy on my breath
So he makes it my middle name
My mother’s baby boy
Wrapped in soft, sensitivity and good posture
Can’t live in the skin she wrapped me in
And the world won’t accept me
Unless I’m hard
So I’ll be stoic
Put my emotions on lock down
Place myself on a shelf
Out of reach
Until I expire
Adventures in Cheyenne
1
This always happens. Why can’t I keep my hands to myself? Who am I kidding? I always have a choice. Always. I just don’t always make the right choices. It was her confident strut that did it. Women who walk like they own their feet are definitely my weakness. And I’ll be damned if they don’t know it. As much as I enjoy being caught in this down pour of beautiful and confident women, even I know seeing four of them at the same time, is asking for trouble. I’m sorry did I say asking? Begging. Begging for trouble.
“Call for you Cheyenne.” Denise screams over the intercom.
“You don’t have to yell Denise, you are quite loud enough. I almost fell out of my chair. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, I’m still trying to get used to this thing. Cheyenne, it doesn’t make sense I can see you from my desk. I’m looking at you right now! An Intercom? If you ask me, it’s pretentious and pointless.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Your caller is still holding. Oh, wait.” She hits the intercom button and shouted, “Your caller is still holding.”
“Very funny.” I said, shaking my head.
“Thanks.” She smirks loudly over the intercom.
I answered the call and heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a while. Instantly I remembered the dress I designed for her. The way it hung on her delicate curves. Then the way it lay in a pile on my bedroom floor. I remember Mrs. Angelica Moreland and there’s nothing angelic about her. Our last encounter didn’t end badly; it just should have never started to begin with.
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Moreland?”
“Mrs. Moreland? Are we back to formal now?” She asked.
“Business is formal, and since you are calling my office it must be about business. So what can I do for you?”
“Fine, I’ll play. Some business yes, but I wanted to catch up, you know, see how you’ve been. So, how are you?”
“I’m great. Building my own business has had its challenges but I’m holding my own. Lots of orders, so many in fact, that I had to hire a bigger staff.” I said proudly.
“That’s wonderful Cheyenne! I have to admit part of why I called you was because of the design you did for Jasmine. I saw the pictures in Elle. The dress was amazing. The way it fit her body, every part of her perfectly, I knew you spent a lot of time on her design. So, how was she?” She asked in a lecherous tone.
“I enjoyed working with her.” I replied completely professional.
“I bet you did.”
“Did you call for a real reason Angelica? I’m a little busy this morning.” I tried to sound as impatient as possible.
“ Fine. You’re no fun today. I need your services. Well the ones you provide when making beautiful clothing.”
“Those are the only services I offer, Angelica.”
“That’s disappointing, but I’m sure I can change your mind.” She cooed.
“Seriously, please, what do you want?”
“We’d be safer if we talked about my needs instead of what I want.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It had been a year since I last saw Angelica, and she hasn’t changed a bit.
“ I need,” she continued, “an outfit for a charity event in May. I remember you need six months but surely four will suffice, plus I’m a longstanding customer.”
“I really do need the full six months. I have several designs I’m working on already. I don’t think I’ll be able to fit you in. Maybe you should come check out the designs I’ve already completed. I’m sure you will find something you like.”
“I don’t want a dress you made to fit some other woman’s body. I want you to make one for my body, my frame, my curves. If I wanted it off the rack I’d have gone to Macy’s!” she boomed.
“And if you’d have wanted me to make it you’d have called me two months ago. I can’t take another job right now. I’m sorry.” I motioned to Denise to interrupt me so I could excuse myself off the phone, but she kept putting her finger to her ear like she couldn’t hear me while pointing at the damn intercom. Note to self get rid of the fucking intercom.
“Cheyenne, please? Come see me. We can work something out.” She pleaded.
“How’s your husband Angelica?” I asked in a surly tone.
“Out of town, like I like him. Will you come see me?” She asked.
“ I’ll think about it. It was good hearing from you Angelica.” I hung up before she could reply.
I didn’t have time for this, but knowing Angelica the way I did, I knew she’d keep calling until I caved or she’d show up. That wasn’t going to happen.
This always happens. Why can’t I keep my hands to myself? Who am I kidding? I always have a choice. Always. I just don’t always make the right choices. It was her confident strut that did it. Women who walk like they own their feet are definitely my weakness. And I’ll be damned if they don’t know it. As much as I enjoy being caught in this down pour of beautiful and confident women, even I know seeing four of them at the same time, is asking for trouble. I’m sorry did I say asking? Begging. Begging for trouble.
“Call for you Cheyenne.” Denise screams over the intercom.
“You don’t have to yell Denise, you are quite loud enough. I almost fell out of my chair. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, I’m still trying to get used to this thing. Cheyenne, it doesn’t make sense I can see you from my desk. I’m looking at you right now! An Intercom? If you ask me, it’s pretentious and pointless.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Your caller is still holding. Oh, wait.” She hits the intercom button and shouted, “Your caller is still holding.”
“Very funny.” I said, shaking my head.
“Thanks.” She smirks loudly over the intercom.
I answered the call and heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a while. Instantly I remembered the dress I designed for her. The way it hung on her delicate curves. Then the way it lay in a pile on my bedroom floor. I remember Mrs. Angelica Moreland and there’s nothing angelic about her. Our last encounter didn’t end badly; it just should have never started to begin with.
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Moreland?”
“Mrs. Moreland? Are we back to formal now?” She asked.
“Business is formal, and since you are calling my office it must be about business. So what can I do for you?”
“Fine, I’ll play. Some business yes, but I wanted to catch up, you know, see how you’ve been. So, how are you?”
“I’m great. Building my own business has had its challenges but I’m holding my own. Lots of orders, so many in fact, that I had to hire a bigger staff.” I said proudly.
“That’s wonderful Cheyenne! I have to admit part of why I called you was because of the design you did for Jasmine. I saw the pictures in Elle. The dress was amazing. The way it fit her body, every part of her perfectly, I knew you spent a lot of time on her design. So, how was she?” She asked in a lecherous tone.
“I enjoyed working with her.” I replied completely professional.
“I bet you did.”
“Did you call for a real reason Angelica? I’m a little busy this morning.” I tried to sound as impatient as possible.
“ Fine. You’re no fun today. I need your services. Well the ones you provide when making beautiful clothing.”
“Those are the only services I offer, Angelica.”
“That’s disappointing, but I’m sure I can change your mind.” She cooed.
“Seriously, please, what do you want?”
“We’d be safer if we talked about my needs instead of what I want.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It had been a year since I last saw Angelica, and she hasn’t changed a bit.
“ I need,” she continued, “an outfit for a charity event in May. I remember you need six months but surely four will suffice, plus I’m a longstanding customer.”
“I really do need the full six months. I have several designs I’m working on already. I don’t think I’ll be able to fit you in. Maybe you should come check out the designs I’ve already completed. I’m sure you will find something you like.”
“I don’t want a dress you made to fit some other woman’s body. I want you to make one for my body, my frame, my curves. If I wanted it off the rack I’d have gone to Macy’s!” she boomed.
“And if you’d have wanted me to make it you’d have called me two months ago. I can’t take another job right now. I’m sorry.” I motioned to Denise to interrupt me so I could excuse myself off the phone, but she kept putting her finger to her ear like she couldn’t hear me while pointing at the damn intercom. Note to self get rid of the fucking intercom.
“Cheyenne, please? Come see me. We can work something out.” She pleaded.
“How’s your husband Angelica?” I asked in a surly tone.
“Out of town, like I like him. Will you come see me?” She asked.
“ I’ll think about it. It was good hearing from you Angelica.” I hung up before she could reply.
I didn’t have time for this, but knowing Angelica the way I did, I knew she’d keep calling until I caved or she’d show up. That wasn’t going to happen.
Coming Soon!! Adventures in Cheyenne
I am going to post some of my short stories on here because no one reads my blog so surely the kiddies won't;-)
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Frida #1 Cremation
This is the first of my Frida Kahlo series, feedback welcomed
#1 Cremation
In the end
When the flames touched
My body
I rose
Stood up on my feet
Not moving
Arms outstretched
An attempt to hold my beloved Mexico
The only home I knew
Knowing I was not house or home
No child left a footprint on my womb
Many children entered none crossed over
Hands crossed upon my chest
I embraced the sparks
Don’t tell the others
But I was not much
More than sparks
When I was alive
But now
I am flame
Swirling around
My once alive head
My once alive heart
You see me
Then you don’t
Engulfed
My comfort
I will visit all of my lost children
Lost no more
Warmth
I could never feel wrapped
In cold lying arms
Comfort
Something I couldn't feel
Something separate from the pain
There was always pain
Disappointment
Closer than my sister
She, may have been the thing that killed me
More than the other things that killed me
My family
The family I would never have
Your children I could never bear
Diego
Could you imagine children with my sister?
Can you feel me here?
My empty womb
My sister’s sister
The fire
Hoisted me
Beyond your reach
You will never hurt me again
I stood up for you
In the palm of your hands
For the last time
Hold me to your eyes
So you can watch me
See, the everything of my pain
Watch me
As I
Burn
I burn for you
Always,
Home
Mexico
#1 Cremation
In the end
When the flames touched
My body
I rose
Stood up on my feet
Not moving
Arms outstretched
An attempt to hold my beloved Mexico
The only home I knew
Knowing I was not house or home
No child left a footprint on my womb
Many children entered none crossed over
Hands crossed upon my chest
I embraced the sparks
Don’t tell the others
But I was not much
More than sparks
When I was alive
But now
I am flame
Swirling around
My once alive head
My once alive heart
You see me
Then you don’t
Engulfed
My comfort
I will visit all of my lost children
Lost no more
Warmth
I could never feel wrapped
In cold lying arms
Comfort
Something I couldn't feel
Something separate from the pain
There was always pain
Disappointment
Closer than my sister
She, may have been the thing that killed me
More than the other things that killed me
My family
The family I would never have
Your children I could never bear
Diego
Could you imagine children with my sister?
Can you feel me here?
My empty womb
My sister’s sister
The fire
Hoisted me
Beyond your reach
You will never hurt me again
I stood up for you
In the palm of your hands
For the last time
Hold me to your eyes
So you can watch me
See, the everything of my pain
Watch me
As I
Burn
I burn for you
Always,
Home
Mexico
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
The Return???
I haven't been posting or blogging much but all of that is about to change..... I am done hiberbnating. I have several projects in the works and one of them I would love your help with. I am a teacher and my students are taking a pretend trip around the world. We would love it if you would send us a card from where you are in the world. Send your postcards to Theresa Davis and Her Amazing Class, 1900 Dekalb Ave., Atlanta ,Ga. 30307.
The other project is a series of poems inspired by the life and works of Frida Kahlo. I will post those poems here and on facebook.
Thanks
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Worst Case Scenario #2
#2 what to do when you hear a woman being raped
you wake with a start
disoriented you stagger to you babies room
thinking something is wrong
when you find them sleeping soundly
you focus on what you are hearing
you go back to your room
remove the butcher knife from under your pillow
and slowly creep towards your back door
you peep through the peep hole
see the man slap the woman
he tells her to shut the fuck up
the calendar on the wall tells you it’s Sunday
you watch him tear her dress
hold her down and yank at her underwear
you see him lower his pants
cover her mouth and he begins the violation
you hesitate
then call 911
you whisper what you see
beg them to leave you anonymous
they say they will
you don’t believe
you go back to the peep hole
you want to save her
you know you can’t
you pray the babies can’t hear
you move to the kitchen window
lift the blinds peek out and see the officer
you hear a scream
the officer talks into his shoulder
places one hand on his gun
you run to the peep hole
you watch the man pull up his pants
and spit on the woman
you run back towards the kitchen you see the officer
gun drawn other hand held in a stop motion
you hear the guy explain that it was nothing
you see the woman stagger out
she scream she was raped
you see the officer turn the guy around
place handcuffs on his wrist and as he looks up
the officer sees you
you stare at each other
he nods
you panic
the ambulance comes
they are all leaving
you breathe for what feels like
the first time in an hour
you do the mother thing
make breakfast
play games
talk baby talk
your head is a hamster wheel
you put the babies in their play pen
put on their favorite movie
the little mermaid
she wants to be human
and for some strange reason
you think that is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard
you shield your tears from your babies
listen to them sing a part of your world
even the one that can’t talk
and you sob
there is a knock at the door
you tense
the babies sing
you peep through the peep hole
you realize
you spend a lot of time
peering through peepholes
there is a man
the police officer from earlier
now in plain clothes
you are grateful for the absence of uniform
you open the door leaving the slide bolt in place
he hands you his card
thanks you for calling in the assault
tells you that he spoke to all of your neighbors
were at home dressed to got to church
and none of them even thought about calling
you are screaming inside your chest
he tells you
you are alone
you believe
he tells you that if you need anything
call the number on the card and ask fo him
you nod dumbly
he tells you he will watch out for you
a tear slides across your cheek
he hears the babies
tells you not to worry
you worry
when you close the door you dissolve
your babies stop singing
they watch you fold
they feel it
everybody cries
Ariel sings
you wake with a start
disoriented you stagger to you babies room
thinking something is wrong
when you find them sleeping soundly
you focus on what you are hearing
you go back to your room
remove the butcher knife from under your pillow
and slowly creep towards your back door
you peep through the peep hole
see the man slap the woman
he tells her to shut the fuck up
the calendar on the wall tells you it’s Sunday
you watch him tear her dress
hold her down and yank at her underwear
you see him lower his pants
cover her mouth and he begins the violation
you hesitate
then call 911
you whisper what you see
beg them to leave you anonymous
they say they will
you don’t believe
you go back to the peep hole
you want to save her
you know you can’t
you pray the babies can’t hear
you move to the kitchen window
lift the blinds peek out and see the officer
you hear a scream
the officer talks into his shoulder
places one hand on his gun
you run to the peep hole
you watch the man pull up his pants
and spit on the woman
you run back towards the kitchen you see the officer
gun drawn other hand held in a stop motion
you hear the guy explain that it was nothing
you see the woman stagger out
she scream she was raped
you see the officer turn the guy around
place handcuffs on his wrist and as he looks up
the officer sees you
you stare at each other
he nods
you panic
the ambulance comes
they are all leaving
you breathe for what feels like
the first time in an hour
you do the mother thing
make breakfast
play games
talk baby talk
your head is a hamster wheel
you put the babies in their play pen
put on their favorite movie
the little mermaid
she wants to be human
and for some strange reason
you think that is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard
you shield your tears from your babies
listen to them sing a part of your world
even the one that can’t talk
and you sob
there is a knock at the door
you tense
the babies sing
you peep through the peep hole
you realize
you spend a lot of time
peering through peepholes
there is a man
the police officer from earlier
now in plain clothes
you are grateful for the absence of uniform
you open the door leaving the slide bolt in place
he hands you his card
thanks you for calling in the assault
tells you that he spoke to all of your neighbors
were at home dressed to got to church
and none of them even thought about calling
you are screaming inside your chest
he tells you
you are alone
you believe
he tells you that if you need anything
call the number on the card and ask fo him
you nod dumbly
he tells you he will watch out for you
a tear slides across your cheek
he hears the babies
tells you not to worry
you worry
when you close the door you dissolve
your babies stop singing
they watch you fold
they feel it
everybody cries
Ariel sings
Worst Case Scenario #1
#1
what to do when you arrive to your home in the projects to find high and drunken men playing craps in front of your door
you are surprised
you don’t make eye contact
your octopus arms holding one baby on hip
with groceries
the other by hand
with a double stroller
you hesitate
take the key you need
hold it firmly
you quietly say excuse me
head motioning towards the door
when one man asks
bitch what the fuck do you want
you don’t tell him
you watch their bodies not their eyes
when one body relaxes
you look into that body eyes
when he says
man, let this lady get by
you are grateful
reward him with full eye contact
ignore the complaints as the men sort of
move away from the door
you juggle all the things you are holding
the babes
the stroller
the groceries
your screams and sobs
you let the key hit the lock
quickly
not so fast that they think you’re afraid
you are afraid
you tense when you feel the stroller
being pulled from your grasp
relax but not completely
when you see it’s the one with the kind eyes
you thank him
put the baby down
release the toddler
grab the stroller
whisper thank you and close the door
you engage both deadbolts
quietly
you don’t want them to think you are scared
you are terrified
you bathe the babies quickly
dress them in pajamas
sing lullabies and tell stories
when they are settled you go back to the door
peep thought the peep hole
watch and listen as the game turns violent
you cry silent tears
check the locks on doors and windows
you go to the kitchen
take the butcher knife
place it under pillow
you cry
make a promise that you will get out of the projects
know that it won’t be tonight
you cry yourself to sleep
hand gripping the handle of the knife
what to do when you arrive to your home in the projects to find high and drunken men playing craps in front of your door
you are surprised
you don’t make eye contact
your octopus arms holding one baby on hip
with groceries
the other by hand
with a double stroller
you hesitate
take the key you need
hold it firmly
you quietly say excuse me
head motioning towards the door
when one man asks
bitch what the fuck do you want
you don’t tell him
you watch their bodies not their eyes
when one body relaxes
you look into that body eyes
when he says
man, let this lady get by
you are grateful
reward him with full eye contact
ignore the complaints as the men sort of
move away from the door
you juggle all the things you are holding
the babes
the stroller
the groceries
your screams and sobs
you let the key hit the lock
quickly
not so fast that they think you’re afraid
you are afraid
you tense when you feel the stroller
being pulled from your grasp
relax but not completely
when you see it’s the one with the kind eyes
you thank him
put the baby down
release the toddler
grab the stroller
whisper thank you and close the door
you engage both deadbolts
quietly
you don’t want them to think you are scared
you are terrified
you bathe the babies quickly
dress them in pajamas
sing lullabies and tell stories
when they are settled you go back to the door
peep thought the peep hole
watch and listen as the game turns violent
you cry silent tears
check the locks on doors and windows
you go to the kitchen
take the butcher knife
place it under pillow
you cry
make a promise that you will get out of the projects
know that it won’t be tonight
you cry yourself to sleep
hand gripping the handle of the knife
worst Case Scenario
the worst case scenario guide
is laughable to me
it fails to present any scenario
I have ever had to survive
my situations may be different
but they are no less serious
and have been some of the worst things
that have ever happened to me
life happens every second
and every second we ponder
the worst
hoping for the best
is laughable to me
it fails to present any scenario
I have ever had to survive
my situations may be different
but they are no less serious
and have been some of the worst things
that have ever happened to me
life happens every second
and every second we ponder
the worst
hoping for the best
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
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