How are you?

Yes, I’m actually asking the question to whosoever will reply.  Yes, I honestly want to know.  It seems that question is as general as “how bout that weather?”  or “how bout them Cubs?”  The question is asked with no expectation of a genuine response.

Question: How are you?

Answer: fine thanks, and you?

That’s it.  you keep it moving. However, today I’m asking,  How are you doing today, in this right-now moment?  Not what you felt yesterday or this morning.  Not what you anticipate feeling later or tomorrow.  But right now.  How are you?how-are-you

Those words

I want to hear those words again. Those words. When they are spoken, you hear them with your soul. They resonate through your spirit. Those words. When you hear them you know they are true. I’m not chasing marriage. No need to try to convince me that we should move in together “just to see how it goes”.  I’m content. At peace. Honest. My truth is simple: I need to hear those words. I’m ready again. 

Why…

…is it that they generalize me? put me in the same category as the others? expect the same foolishness from me as that which they received from them? Why have they not realized that I am able to honor their time in their own madness and respectfully leave them be?  Why have they not realized that when they choose to take a dive into their chaotic idiocy, I will sit on my shore of contentment and wait, and when they’re done splashing around in their foolishness, I will simply meet them with the towel of peace?   Why have they not figured out that if they take an extended swim, I will get in my proverbial car and drive away to a whole other setting?  Why must I continuously show this? Prove how respectful I am to the time needed for others to dwell in their lunacy?  You ask me a question, I give you an answer, then you get mad at my truth. MY truth.  Where’s the logic in that? Or I ask you a question and you get upset because the answer you have to give forces you to see your own limitations or selfishness.  Please realize, I am not them. I’m not going to call multiple times or send a hundred text messages back to back asking ‘what’s wrong. what did I do or not do. how can I help you get through this. please talk to me’.  No. not me. Because madness is madness. it has no beginning and no ending.  It simply lays dormant until it’s triggered -like an explosive device- and then everyone in it’s path gets hurt.  I’m not standing in the way of madness to pacify your grown ass.   Watch me sit back, legs crossed, and watch you spiral. I will more than likely be right here after you get out of whatever emotions you have to go through. However, if I didn’t give birth to you, don’t expect me to hold your hand and spiral/spin/dive-in with you. Don’t expect it.  Expect me to respect your time.  Expect me (probably) to answer your call/text after you come back to logic.  Expect me to honor and preserve my own sanity.  This is key.

Why do I get the feeling that come next week, I will have to respectfully prove all this again….

power

It’s that time again…

Headcount. 27 definitely.  No need to ask who’s hosting cause Thanksgiving is mine.  In the past, I would feel stressed at the thought of having to get the house ready to host everyone and extra. I would feel stressed at the thought of the money I’ll have to spend this month and next.  I’d get stressed and a little anxious just thinking of it all…. But this year is different.  I’m so damn excited this year.  I checked my bank account.  yep. Bills are paid. Food in the house; enough for the 6 extra people that will be staying with us this week. Now I’ll be careful until the next paycheck rolls in.  LAWD…but I don’t feel the anxiety. I’m not stressing about cleaning from top to bottom so 24 extra people can roll in and make a mess. I’m just not doing that. This year just feels different.  It’s been a rough year it seems. And then with the election thing…….. Sister says to put a sign up on the front door “NO POLITICS TALK!” LOL  it’s sounds silly, but I’m sure this will avoid any unnecessary debates/disagreements/arguements.  I’m just looking forward to a few days where there’s no worry.  Two of the three boys will be here.  It’d be awesome if we had all three, but hey, I’ll take the two.  Mom and dad will be quite happy and surprised to see the boys and some of the grandkids that they don’t get to see very often.  We like surprising them 🙂  I don’t know the last time we had two of the brothers with us for Thanksgiving.  This is good.  There are some things I wish were different. But the importance of the things that ARE far outweigh the hopes of ‘what could be’.  So yea….. this year is different.  Feels different.  Thanksgiving is mine. Y’all can have Christmas 😀

…so what happened?

I‘m at work. I’m at the last few pages of my notepad and realize that these pages aren’t empty…. the data is written in red.  Why? was I angry? or was that the pen I was using at the time? Who knows.  So I read it.  I remembered writing it. Then I decided to post it.  Keep in mind that this is before I started writing again.  This is probably what triggered my blogging.  here goes:

I used to write…

found my love of poetry during my freshman year of college. Ironically, thinking back, that’s also when I found love. True love. That ride or die love. That “no matter what love…love no matter what”.

I took this one class.  He was real. Knowledgeable. Passionate. He taught me that it wasn’t important to rhyme. He taught me to count. listen to the beat. count. No, it didn’t have to rhyme, but it had to have a rhythm.

True love. It has a rhythm.  I was in love, didn’t “see it coming….and the next thing I knew, unconditional love.”  He was my friend first. so loving him was easy.  our love had a rhythm.

Anyways, back to Mr. Teacher.  he was different. He wasn’t refined looking. his beard was…patchy…tightly curled. like he had no interest in it’s upkeep.  But he had a beard.  And when he spoke, there was base. And he counted. Rhythm. His base carried rhythm. And he had a beard. and his beard had grays/silver.  And he had my respect because he had gray hair and a beard and he was intelligent and his base carried rhythm and now I realize that he reminded me of my dad. Not nearly as handsome, but bearded, base, rhythm.  Music was a part of my dad. he loved to whistle and sang and played the guitar and he taught me, so many things.  This teacher…I don’t remember his name. I remember him because he helped me cultivate my love of poetry. He told us about a poetry reading on campus where Imamu Amiri Barack would be speaking. I went. Took love with me.  Love found the poetry reading a little humorous at different moments. but he was there with me. I loved that. and at the end, he appreciated being there.  That was many years ago….

And so my love of poetry grew with the years.

I used to write… what happened?

What happened is…

I got tired, overwhelmed, underloved.

Overworked and underappreciated.

Full-time mother, employee, lover, sister, daughter, friend.

Overworked, overwhelmed.

I used to write about/to my daughter, but she became a teen and so we talk. About everything

I used to write about my men. But they were all the same. Ever seen “Orphan Black”? Same faces, different personalities. Yeah, like that. Just Reversed. Same damn personalities,characters, lies, disappointments, just different bodies/faces.  Living it was one thing. Redundant.  So I wasn’t going to write about it anymore.  Redundant & Stagnant. I hate both.

So now I’m a mother of 2.  It’s time I start writing again.

There’s newness.

My first is 16. Newness.

My second is one. Newness daily.

and I’m trying to create a new man.  

Not like I’m God.

But like an angel hard at work.  This creation is mental.  I know what I can love. I know the kind of man that I want to love me. the creation is mental. and so God will spin the universe in such a way…and breathe life into my creation.

What happened is, it’s time. 

I think Mr. Teacher would approve of this.  There’s no counting. no rhythm. This is not poetry. This is prose. He would approve.

 

 

….now what?

I know that as a black woman raising black children I should have a lot to say about the new president-elect. But I’m not sure I have a lot to say….  Why? I’m glad you asked.  The thing is, I voted.  I -like millions of others- voted for who I thought would be the best candidate to run the country.   I voted.  I think too many people underestimated the determination of “others” to get rid of the democratic party.  I think too many people underestimated the foolish persuasion of the opposing candidate.  While being a complete turnoff morally and intellectually, he was able to reach the heart of those who were in dire need of financial and political change.  While many of us simply fanned our hands in the air with a simple “there’s no way he’s going to become president”, there were those who were weighing their options: go with the liar who’s been in the political game long enough to either bring real change or play it to her own benefit. OR go with the fool who talks out his ass while proving that he can run a successful business…

AAAAAAAND the people have spoken.  A choice has been made.  It was a SHOCKER to most, but not to me.  I saw it coming.  I saw and heard too many people say “I don’t like either one” or “we’re screwed either way so…I’m not voting.”  What you (the ones who didn’t vote) failed to realize is that if you don’t vote against what/who you don’t want in power, in essence, you are actually voting for it/him.  That one vote to 3 million -or however many votes- could have easily gone to the other side. OR even better, if you don’t like either side, VOTE INDEPENDENT.  Now THAT would have made it interesting.  But no, here we are in the beginning of the aftermath and we’re mad. we’re sad. we’re upset. we’re disappointed. because we’re thrown…we just didn’t see it coming.

This may sound a little callous, but I believe that we should save our energy because -believe me when I say- there will be a WHOLE LOT OF REASONS to protest over the next 4 years.  There will not be a question of “why are they protesting?” because he’s going to give us CLEAR and OBVIOUS reasons.  Black Lives. Women’s rights. Gay Rights. Latino Rights. Immigration/deportation. Black Lives. and did I say Black Lives?  I PRAY TO GOD that it doesn’t happen, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to need to call forth the Huey Newtons and the Malcolm Xs, the Harriet Tubmans and the Sojourner Truths, the Angela Davis and the Marcus Garveys of the day because –with all due respect– the Martin Luther King Jrs and the Jessie Jacksons mild mannered-ness just won’t do.

NOT OUR PRESIDENT!yes he is. whether we like it or not.  voted in by damn near a landslide.  no vote riggin/robbery. he didn’t even have to call for a recount to make sure. the republican voters put the democrats to shame this go round. we’re acting worse than what we expected from him if he had lost.  so let’s accept our loss and go back to the drawing board and regroup.

Yes, the people have spoken.  Yet, there is still much to say.  However, we can’t just march.  We can’t just sit. We need order and planning. We need strategies and clear expectations.  We’re going to protest: o.k.  What are we protesting for? this, this, that, and against that bs right there.  What are the expected results? << this is very important.  What changes are we expecting to see as a result of our protests:  THIS. CHANGE THIS. KEEP THAT.  TAKE THAT LAW BACK WHEREVER YOU PULLED IT FROM; IT’S UNACCEPTABLE.

Go home people. save your energies.  I promise, we’re going to need it.

Exhale: I guess I had a lot to say after all.

 

Blogger’s Block?

No…. brain just a little frozen I guess.  It just seems as though there’s been one thing after the next.  My people say it’s cause it’s  a leap year and things just go so wrong during leap years.  I don’t very much believe that.  I think If/when things are going to go wrong, they just do.  Chaos and doubt and “WTF” moments are no respecters of persons, time or place.  When it’s time it’s just time.

So why am I frozen?  Again listing the details and having to look at them and “face” them would make me see how petty I am.  So in perspective, Everything is cool. Everyting Irie. And even the things that aren’t, I believe they will be.  Queue Bob Marley:  “…Saying, THIS. IS. MY. MESSAGE. TO. YOU-OO-OO-OO.  Singing don’t worry, about a thing.  (don’t worry bout a thing NO!) cause every little thing, is gonna be alright!” 🙂