Resolving, Renewing and Regenerating

New Year's Resolutions. . .I never touch the stuff. I feel that every moment we have the capability of setting resolves on how we can change our paths if we feel they need alterations. Why should we wait for an old man with curious grooming habits and a baby with curiously missing parents to take our destinies in our hands? With each passing day, experience or encounter, I resolve to not make the mistakes of the past. I guess you could call that my life's resolution or mission statement.

I do reflect on the year gone by and make mental notes on things that I could or should have done differently, but I have resolved not to let it dictate when I should make my changes. If my pants are snug on December 18th, I'm not going to make a pig of myself for the remaining weeks of the year only to assuage my guilt by promising that I'll do better next year. I take this view: If I am on a road trip and a head on collision is imminent, to reason in my mind, "I'm going to hit THIS car, but on my next road trip, I'll definitely be more careful" is foolish. My life is the ultimate road trip.

SHUT UP!

I have always prided myself in thinking before I speak. I have failed to do that twice in a month. The first time caused a dramatic change in a friendship that was already shaky. The second did notcause that type of fallout, but this is really something I need to nip in the bud. I have never been involved in drama, nor have I had the desire to cause any for someone else and being just a little too chatty, can present a major problem. I'm all about self improvement anyway.

Things to know about me

I love buying clothes that are "chocolate", "espresso or "celery" as opposed to "brown", "dark brown" or "green". Looking at a fluffy white cloud makes me a little giddy. Every once in a while, I feel the need to get dolled up and go clubbing, but it still pales in comparison to watching three year old put on her "princess" shoes and dance around the house for our "Saturday Night Dance Party". I will talk on the phone to just about anybody, but if I talk to you on the toilet, I'd take a bullet for you. The same goes for if I pick my wedgie in your presence. I am a sucker for an educated brother with dreds and a twisted sense of humor. Just because I give you a big smile, that does NOT mean I want you - my mouth is wide. . .I have no choice. I am terrified of drowning or being severely burned. If you want to end a friendship with me, lie, insult my intelligence or call me out of my name maliciously. I can handle anything that you dish out to me personally, but if you harm my children I will beat your monkey ass. If I bring a man food, I'm sprung. I will complain about my sisters until the end of time, but the moment someone else chimes in, I will not hesitate to cuss them from amazing grace to floating opportunity. I'm also undisciplined. . .which is why I was typing this instead of focusing on what I really should be doing.

Bitter Banter

No matter what has happened, no matter how many times I've felt hurt, wronged or misled (intentionally or not) I've made it my aim to not become another "bitter" sister. Regardless of the circumstances, I keep a stiff upper lip and roll with the punches. It makes no sense to give the other party the satisfaction of seeing you sweat. Every once in a while, I feel that this quality means NOTHING and gets you NOWHERE.

For example, there was a guy I was seeing from time to time. For some reason, the dating gods thought it would be funny to have me meet another individual of the female persuasion that he was dating at dinner. I had no idea that this person was dating this guy, and even further, I had NO idea that he would be interested in someone like her. I'm by no means a priss or a shrinking violet, however, this "lady" was vile beyond all definition. Besides the fact that she used "fuck" - at the dinner table with a four and five year old - as punctuation, but grooming wasn't her strong point either. Evidently, closing her mouth while chewing also didn't rank high on her list of priorities. Let me say that I'm all about being relaxed and letting it all hang loose, so for her to disgust me means that she was all but taking a dump on the table. In any event, I happened to whisper the name of the guy I was seeing to my cousin in a fairly harmless context. The lady happened to hear it and almost immediately lost all composure. Now, mind you, I was merely seeing this man on occasion and had no delusions of the situation actually "being" anything. However, this poor lady did not have that same perspective. The remaining 15 minutes of dinner were tense and embarrassing but I never lost it. Nor did I disclose the nature of my "relationship" with this guy. My not losing it however, does not mean that shit didn't cut me to the heart. Knowing that you're not the only one someone is seeing and "KNOWING" that you're not the only one that someone is seeing are two totally different ball games.

The thing that bothered me the most was that, I'd let this dude "in". I experienced a comfort zone with him and was even able to let him know that I was scared of the situation and why I felt I should keep him at arms length. Then just when I felt relaxed about everything, that shit happened. Then, I'll be damned if the situation wasn't made to be my fault. I can't say that DIDN'T hurt, but that wasn't the big thing. The biggest thing was, my life was totally in order before him and he knew that. Why did he interfere with my universe when he knew he couldn't add to it?

My "favorite" though, still rings in my mind. All I can remember is that it was a day in July, 2000. I'd just recently gotten back with my husband and found out I was pregnant with our daughter. We were going out to celebrate our reunion and our new place and it was a pretty nice evening. We went to dinner then went to shoot pool. After a while, I got a little bored at the pool hall and left to do some shopping and pick up my son. When I got back, there was a bevy of large women outside of the pool hall with a baby. After chuckling to myself at the "baby mama drama" appearance of it all, I blew the horn for my husband to come out. It was raining, and there was no way I was leaving my young son in the car by himself in front of a pool hall. Imagine my surprise a short time later when I start hearing the ring leader of the "baby mama drama" crew saying that someone who shared the same name as my husband hadn't seen his son since he was born. Imagine my further surprise when she said that this man also had a "baby mama" with the same name as mine who he was leaving. Ain't that some shit. Once my punk ass (now ex) husband finally did come out of the pool hall, he had a brief exchange with mama drama and hurried into the car and told me to leave. Again, even with him, I never lost my cool, because I think that's just silly. Plus, I had my unborn child to think about and I was determined to have a peaceful pregnancy. He of course denied everything, but over time, I came to realize that he had, in fact, fathered this child. I, however, was not going to be stressed, and after I took every ounce of leave that I had from the bank (and some that I didn't) I ultimately left him.

I suppose I could say that I have the satisfaction of knowing that I stayed cool under fire, but the fact remains, both those situations broke my heart. In both situations, I stood strong, but ultimately alone. Though the situations were different, I thought that both persons had a measure of concern and respect for me, and it became evident that they didn't. However, it's incumbent upon me to not take their sins of thoughtlessness out on the next man, and I usually handle that with ease. Occasionally though, there are days like this, days that are icy and lonely, that makes that task seem just a little more formidable than usual.

The man of my dreams

The man of my dreams is in South America. No, he's not a drug lord or anything of the sort. His cause is noble. It is his sworn duty to protect the continent from the evil El Chupacabra. At least that's the story I'm telling myself. I believe that there is someone for everyone. Sometimes that person runs smack into you, sometimes, you have to stand still and listen for them...then sometimes their in South America hunting El Chupacabra. . . or eating mice in a bush in the Australian Outback...whatever. But that does not negate their existence.

I think that my relationship/emotional wants are fairly simple. But there's something about me, something I can't perceive, that doesn't compel men to meet my needs. Men just can not resist running me into the ground. I used to expect that in this amalgam of sex (both good and bad), relationships (all bad), marraige (definitely bad), friends with benefits and platonic friends, I'd one day have some type of reprieve. I used to think SOMEONE would say, "She's cool folks and I'm not going to have a hand in damaging her spirit." But you know what? That's NEVER going to happen. That's because it seems that the men I am attracted to are self-serving, egomaniacal jerks with no character. I have no idea why, but it's a time tested fact. Ultimately, the monkey shows his tail.

I've dated them all - college students, college graduates, high school drop-outs, college drop-outs, white collar, blue collar, older, younger, artists, jocks - you name it. The personalities have all been different, their characteristics have all been different. But they have all been the same in the end. I have racked my brain trying to figure out the why's and the wherefores and the before mentioned is the only viable conclusion I could come up with. Therefore, until "Javier" gets his visa and visits the States, I guess I'll experience a nunlike existence.

Unmotivated

It's a Saturday morning and I have a million things to do. Unfortunately, I don't feel like doing jack! I don't know what's wrong with me. If I don't take care of things, they won't be taken care of. I know this...I've always known this. I'm just tired of having to do everything. I can't complain because part of this is the life I've chosen. But then, part of this is the way my life has always been.

I know that I have a blessed life, but sometimes it's just so damned hard. I should be thankful that things always manage to get into place, but the journey beats me down sometimes. Ah well, I guess I'd better get crackin

Him

I miss him most in the winter. That's when the memories- the ones of deep hugs, river side kisses and ice cream despite the freezing temperature - are most vivid. I remember how his face warmed up when he saw me smile that first time, so I tried to always smile around him. I always wanted him to feel warm when he was with me. It was a youthful, innocent, yet passionate, love affair. He was my oasis and I was his. When we were together, all that mattered was the moment. When we were apart, all that mattered was the next moment we could be together. Everyone knew I was his and he was mine and outwardly, they'd laugh at us. It didn't matter because inwardly, we knew they envied us. And so it went - for quite a while.

Then, inexplicably, things changed. River side kisses went from rare to nonexistent. His face would still occasionally warm up when I smiled, but it got to where I didn't feel like smiling as much. Our love was still there and passionate, but not quite as innocent. Then, sometimes, we needed an oasis from one another. Everyone still knew that we belonged to one another, but then I started hearing "Well why isn't he here?" just a little too often. And we started arguing just a little too often. And other guys started asking me out . . . just a little too often. He still wanted me, he just didn't necessarily want to be with me on my terms - not even part time. So I let him go. Just like that.

They always say, if you love something, let it go, if it comes back, it's yours. And you know what? For once, "they" were right. He still loved me. We were laughing and talking again. We would kick it and his face would warm up (and sometimes get downright hot) when I smiled. More importantly, I wanted to smile again. The change took what we had to a different place. I've never figured out if it was quite a higher level, or just somewhere else. Our relationship reached an "ebb and flow"period. We weren't quite "together" but we could not be apart. We never knew what was going to happen from one day to the next. It was confusing.

I remember sitting in my room after we had just argued and I heard the Lauryn Hill song "Ex Factor" for the first time. I'd heard the previous release, however, that song made me get on the bus and cop her CD immediately. Nothing put into words what I was going through like that song. He and I just could not seem to get on the same page again. The love was always there, but it morphed into something different through no fault of our own. We spent more time apart again, but this time, we couldn't quite pick up where we left off. Our conversations began to take a tone of how good one was doing without the other. We were both too prideful for love. Ultimately what was passionate, innocent, pure and whole was degraded by pride.

Now, we ebb way more than we flow. Once in a blue purple moon, we might bump into one another. At first, we'd be kind of excited and catch up as much as our busy, vastly different lives allowed. Then it turned into just the occasional obligatory friendly chatter. The last time we saw one another, we scarcely said a polite hello. Maybe that was because it was summer soI wasn't reminded of that February day. The day we stood by the river, melted into one another and kissed as the sun set. I loved him then.

I love him still.

simple

i want love
not fraught with
qualifiers and stipulations
but something true.
whether it be a
lifetime of affection
or just 15 minutes of
honest purity.
i’ll accept it.
see i won’t allow
the completion of my soul
to rely on organza
and an ornate left hand.
a roseless valentine’s day
will neither make nor break
my spirit.
but to never experience
an unaffected embrace
will render me hollow.
i’m not asking that you
love me as i love you.
just love me
as much as you can.
i can live with that.

Scarred

would you believe me
if i told you
that i could forget every
obscenity
shove
philandering dalliance
and heartbreak
that i have ever endured
if doing so would
win back my original spirit?

the one that was
free to love
without jaded suppositions.
never questioned
hidden agendas
or significant others.
would you find it laughable?

if letting go of my past
meant a night of peace
huddled
back to belly
in a warm embrace
breath creating
a soft low rhythm –
i would do so
without thought.

but the truth is
that the heart
of a scarred sister
has a very long memory
and a surface
that toughens
with each encounter.