My toe hurts...

I am a klutz. Really it's true. Anyone who has known me most of my life knows this about me. I walk into things, I trip over carpet. I slip and fall on ice and knock out my two front teeth. I jump rope and brake my ankle. It's just something I have always lived with. And up until now, I was okay with it. My parents spent thousands of dollars on ballet lessons to help me, but the shit didn't work. I still walk into any thing that is in my way.

A few weeks ago, about two, I was coming out of my bathroom and bam, right into the desk. My port 4th toe looks all mangled now. I guess no strappy sandles this summer. Now people look at me and say "Ah, what happened?" I wish I could tell them something cool, but all i can say is "I'm a klutz."

So as I hobble through the next few weeks, I hope that nothing else comes in the way of my toes. I gotta let them heal.

Love Divided By Five: Resolve

Resolve

            How do you feel about me ran across my lips before I could grab the words and force them back down my throat? I’ve always been one of those women who usually tend to think before she speaks. But this moment NOT one of those times. I couldn’t help myself. Word Vomit had hit me again.  I was tired—tired of being his pawn on his chess board.  Move her there check. Cross over to this side check. I was getting tired of that game. The subject of this phone call was a story of the infidelity that plagued our relationship.  I thought slapping the word “open” in front of “relationship” would make me feel better about the whole thing. But I was wrong.   The only thing it did was make me complain more.  I would go off on these rambles of woe is me and why can’t you stop.  Those conversations were never end well—I would be crying and Kent would hang up mad.

            As week passed since that conversation, I decided to change my behavior.  I worked slowly and strategically on how I could make this madness forming inside of my head stop. I asked myself was it me.  I went over it all in my mind.  And bam, one day, it hit me like a Mack truck.  This is all about me.  If things were going to change I was going to have to be the one to change them.  My brain raced with itself looking for the answer. It wasn’t until just before Thanksgiving it came to me. I had to be the one to start letting go. If I didn’t I would be the one still sitting here 10 years later wishing and hoping. I didn’t want to be that girl who spends years hanging on to the wrong moment in her life.  I just didn’t know if I had the strength to do what I needed to do. I needed to begin to let go.

            I gave myself a deadline.  Sunday, November 25^th.   I called it last phone call day. I planned and pondered. I would have to keep busy.   My daily ritual of calling him until I got an answer would be put to bed.  It was going to be hard, but I it was time.  I would rid myself of that hold I let him put on me.  The very thought of all this made me sick to my stomach.  We all want something that we can have, but this had gone too far. My brain was ready for the break.  There were enough things crammed in it for one semester.  I had to make room for the next semester’s worth of knowledge and thoughts of Kent were wasting good space.  I needed to fill up on useful and productive things.  Kent was about to lose his reign on my cranium. I was free.

            The fun part about all of this was that he had no idea what was going on.  The smart part of my plan was to not tell him—to stop that very day.  I wanted to see out how long it would take for him to figure it out.  Would he notice right away or would it take him weeks to notice that I stopped calling. I realized moving to Chicago was only the first part of the plan. To truly be free, I had to stick to my convictions and to stop calling. There would be no more extra effort on my part.  Relationships require two people.

            The first couple of days were hard. The next couple of days were surprisingly easy. I thought hey, I can do this.  I was sad but I knew it was just my heart trying to catch up to my brain.  I worked on school, I talked to other friends and I even started reading a book I was meaning to read. It was lovely.   I can get things done and not worry about what Kent was doing. I felt like I had just run a big race. I made it to the top of those steps like in Rocky and had done my dance. My brain was breaking free. But there was still that part of me that wanted answers.

            Those answers I need came in a form of an email.  I think if I would have received it any sooner, I probably would have had some false sense of security that things might change.  But now, the email gave me peace.  No more searching for how to put my unsettle feeling to bed. He stated it plainly and I was in a place to accept the truth.  We are friends and companions for life.  He has my back no matter what and will come to my aid at the drop of a dime.  It made me smile to just think that you could mean so much to a person and it not is about being in love. I understood now.  There was a resolve to my feelings. And yet they might be unrequited, that is alright with me because I have the strength and the power to move on.

“Disappointment is not always the end of something new. Devastation can lead you to a magical place. But it is in your resolve that you find things about yourself you never known you had within you.  And all these things make you a person who is able to LOVE.”

D.

Love Divided By Five: Magical

            I bought a kite.  It was a SpongeBob Kite—green and yellow, with a blue tail.  It was a little kid’s kite I had gotten at Walgreens one day on a whim. Kent said he liked kites and we both loved SpongeBob. So I thought that if it was windy one day and we were at the park, we could fly it.  I had never flown one before so this would be a first for me. It was also an activity for cheap date night.  Cheap date night started because we both never had a lot of money most of the time.  The night would consist of us pooling what funds we had together and seeing what fun we could have with the limited amount of money. Most of the time 11.00 dollars of what we had went to getting some provisions and snacks off the dollar menu at McDonalds when we had the munches.

            On this particular night it was beautiful out. The weather was getting ready to transition from spring to summer. The moonlight broke through the setting sun still giving the illusion that it was still day.  The wind was light, warm and tickled my nose every time it would breeze around.  The weather man stated that there were thunderstorms likely that night and there would be a wonderful lighting storm.  I asked Kent what he wanted to do.  He said lets fly the kite tonight. I told him it might rain later but he didn’t care.  So kite flying it was.

            We arrived at Havenwoods—the deer had just made their decent into the deep part of the nature preserve where they spent their nights.  The sky was a deep purple and moist with the upcoming rainstorm that the universe was brewing.  I took my sleeping bag from my trunk and sat it down for us to sit on while Kent got the kite ready.  The air was friendly as if it knew we were going to be there for a long time.  The sound of the animals that inhabited the forests around us created a soundtrack for our evening that sounded like a love song. The birds provided a melody as the frogs and the crickets provided the counter melody.  Kent smiled at me as he was attempting to get the kit going. I was busy preparing the provisions we had bought so we could enjoy the night away and fly our kite.

            Just as we got comfortable on the sleeping bag the wind shifted. I could feel the coldness of the blacktop seeping through the bag touching my back. It made me shiver. The storm was brewing and ready to show itself. As we laid there we talked about the upcoming summer and what we wanted to do.  I told Kent that I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could, work and learn how to knit.  He laughed at the knitting and called me an old lady.  I asked him what he wanted.  He said he wanted to find a good job so he could take better care of his kids.  He also wanted to spend more time with me.  That made me smile. He leaned over and kissed me forgetting for a second that he was flying a kite.  We heard something hit the grown, splat.  Oh, shit—it was the kite.  The wind had picked up by then and you could see the lighting in the clouds. Laying there on my back, next to this person whom I felt so much for, it was so perfect.

            I could feel the effects of the provisions coming over me.  I got so philisophical. I began to ask Kent a series of questions about various things that I cannot remember now. I just remember the hours passing by and it felt like we never ran out of things to talk about.  I felt so safe there—on my magical blanket, flying a kite, with my magical guy.   There was a force field around us where nothing could touch us—not the rain, the thunder or the lighting. We were safe there.

            About 11pm the rain started to fall.  I don’t think at first we noticed it because we were wrapped in the moment.  The lighting storm drew patterns that resemble rainbows on the sky. The thunder reminded us of our beating hearts. The rain lightly cleansed our souls to become one.  It was all so magical. I felt like a fairly princess who had met her knight-in-shinning-armor.

Love Divided By Five: Devastation

            I didn’t feel well when I woke up that morning.  I told Kent that there was something wrong with my stomach.  His concern was to look at me and say, “Maybe you need to poop.” I just shook my head at him. I hopped of the futon and almost killed myself. The floor was cold and I attempted to find something to put on my feet, but I couldn’t see the damm floor for all the crap Kent had on it.  I decided to go to the bathroom. On the way I thought to myself this is not poop pain. But then, it didn’t hurt to go attempt.

            When I arrived in the bathroom I sat down and noticed a little blood in my urine.  This didn’t surprise me because Kent and I had sex the night before so I just finished my morning pit stop and went to shower.  I thought to myself I might feel better after that. The water felt warm on my cold skin as I washed the night’s dirt off of my aching body.  I closed my eyes and stood there for a moment wishing that the pain would go away.  The moment I felt better I turned the water off and exited the shower. My stomach felt better all of a sudden.  I told Kent when I went back in his room to finish getting dressed that maybe he was right, even though I knew I hadn’t pooped at all.

            I went about my day, visiting my clients at work.  I guess with the hustle and bustle of the day, I ignored the grown pain in my stomach and abdomen.  It was not until that afternoon, about 3 p.m., I noticed the pain had returned.  I asked my friend Carrie if she had a tampon because I thought my body might be trying to have a period (something it does everyone once in a blue moon considering that I haven’t had a period on my own since I was 16) and made my way to the bathroom.  Once I arrived there, I saw the mess that was in my underwear.  I swore at myself because I should have stopped at home after the stomach cramp and gotten a pad just to be safe. Not only had I ruined my underwear, but my pants had a nice stain in there as well.  I was going to have to leave work and go home. This was good because I didn’t want to be at work anymore but bad because I hadn’t cycled in about a year. I knew it was going to be a great while before this was over.

            Over the next 4 hours I went to the bathroom about every thirty minutes.  I was changing my tampon and pad each time. They were both full of blood every time. At first I did not think much of it because this was common of the first day of my period.  What made me worry were the clumps I saw in the pad. At one point there was so much I screamed. Luckily my best friend had come over by then.  As I remember back if it was not for him I would have miscarried on the floor of my apartment bathroom.

            He rushed me to the hospital. The doctors and nurses kept looking at me and saying nothing is wrong it was just a period. They gave me 5 pregnancy tests, the blood continued to gush out. I walked around the hospital room, blood dripping out of me like someone had stabbed me in my abdomen. I kept screaming at the nurses, you got to be fucking kidding this is just a period. It felt like my insides were turning inside out. I cried from the pain, because they didn’t know what was wrong with and because I did—I was losing Kent’s baby.  I called him, and could barely talk; wanting to tell him what was going on.  I told him I was at the hospital and that they didn’t know what was wrong with me.  I wanted to tell him “I think I am losing your child,” but it couldn’t form the words.  Kent has never handled bad news well.  I told him when I knew something other than I was just bleeding everywhere, I would let him know.  He asked if I wanted him to come. I told him there was no point and I would call him when they released me.

            I closed my eyes on the hospital bed and drifted to sleep for a moment. I saw myself with a huge pregnant belly and people standing around me.  I was happy.  Kent was there holding my hand and I felt safe.  I felt myself smile in my dream and for a moment I forgot the pain in my gut and the steadily growing puddle under my butt.  I started to cry. The scene in my head was not going to happen because the happiness that engulfed that scene was going away with every drop of blood that hit the hospital bed.

            I waited.  3 a.m. came.  They told me I could go home. They repeated it is just a period. Buki laughed and helped me get dressed. They gave me a pad to put on and a few for the ride home.  That pad would be overflowed by the time I went home.  I was losing my baby.

            Two days later, I saw my Ob-Gyn.  She told me that I was right. I was pregnant and that my body naturally passed a tubal pregnancy.  She wouldn’t be able to completely check to make sure everything had passed till I stopped bleeding.  She gave me some pills to bring a period on so if any of the debris was still there, it would be forced out with the cycle.  And she gave me a hug and told me it just wasn’t meant to be. I was torn apart. I felt like a part of me was lost in the garbage.  I would never get to meet that person who had started growing in me.  I never told Kent, I didn’t have the heart. Why did we both need to feel devastated?

Love Divided By Five: New

New 

I’d spent most of 2004 trying to get over my ex boyfriend. After a 10 year love affair, I decided that it was time to kill the cycle.  I wanted to finish my master’s degree with no distractions. I had quit my job and focused on my thesis.  By August I was finished, graduated, and working a new job. I was happy with my life.  I learned to be on my own again.  Everything was so new to me and I had never felt so free in my life.  I regained that innocence I had lost from being with someone so long. I felt empowered.

One random day I was tootling around on the internet and came across this magical creature.  The vibes I got from his picture were short of astounding.  I am very into to vibes; how things feel, what do pictures tell you and the way people use words.  Reading his profile I gathered he was a little messed up (from the misspelled words), a little crazy (from the expression on his face), and the best friend you will ever have (from his personal quote).  So just for shits and giggles, I decided to email him to see if he would respond.  He was from Milwaukee and I thought just maybe he might be a great new friend to have. 

Email sent and I completely forgot about it. It wasn’t until I checked my email a few days later that I was reminded of it. He had answered—his name was Jacob, he thought I would cute and he wanted me to call him.  My soul felt warm the way it does when something good happen.  Everything said to go with this, so I did. I emailed him back and told him that my mom taught me well and a man should call me if he wants to court me. I gave him my number. The wait began.  I wondered what he was going to sound like. Was his voice gently and soft or deep and commanding?  Would he be sweet or would he have a bad boy streak? Meeting someone for the first time is also overwhelming.

He called when I was eating dinner. I remember it was a Tuesday because American Idol was on the screen.  It was a simple first conversation—all the pleasantries you exchange when you first speak to someone.  I can remember feeling a little devastated because he was not in Milwaukee at the time.  He told me he had moved to Washington D.C. just after the holidays to help his sister out and to possibly find a job.  All those feelings I had felt from his picture started to melt away.  In my mind I could see the petals falling from the tulips I had painted to represent the budding new relationship. I was so lost in my own thoughts I almost missed the most important line I would ever hear.

Right when I thought all hope was lost he said “but I would come back for you.” I didn’t know this man from Amos or Andy.  There was nothing about him at the time that would even make me think that he could say that to me.  I was kind of startled so I laughed.  I can remember telling him you are crazy, I could be a nutcase that just got out of the crazy house.  He laughed but stated he had a gut feeling, and you seem like someone I should have in my life. That made me smile. I’ve never met someone who was so eloquent.

Later that night we had a conversation that lasted for 8 hours. I could bore you with the details but I will tell you what was important.  I have never in my life met someone who I could just talk to, other than my mother.  The words rolled off my tongue as if I had waited 27 years say them. I’ve met someone who made me feel complete again. Our souls were on the decent of connecting. They danced along on a breeze not knowing where they would end up.  My mind attempted to take it all in, but it was just too much.

One week later, I drove to the airport.  I stood at the terminal and watch this person who I only knew in mind and soul walk towards me.  I felt a wave rush over me as if I was playing in the ocean attempting to catch a wave.  The water was warm on my face and I could feel the sun beating down on me. That is what love is like when it is new.  You are surrounded by the warmth of it and nothing can touch you.

Love Divided By Five

Tonight I will be starting a series called "Love Divided By Five". I am thinking of expanding it into a novella. There is so much more story to each section. Names have been changed to protect the guilty :)  The first section is called:

Disappointment

I should have left after he said, “we’re just friends”.  But I stayed; there was something about him that made me want to.  It was something about his voice; his tone led me to believe he was saying it to make himself believe.  I asked him when he made this decision, my voice quivering because of the tears welding up behind my already painful and bloodshot eyes.  He bellowed his mantra “Im’ma do me,” which has always been the stupidest thing I have ever heard anyone say.  He rambling on about how he was going to do what he wanted to do and I could not stop him. I don’t know how someone with five children can just only be worried about themselves all the time, but he was sure holding to his convictions.  I secretly laughed inside.  I thought to myself, what an idiot. 

            The part of me that thought walk away wanted my heart to understand what I felt for his was a well crafted illusion.  There was nothing about our relationship that was real.  The blurred lines of reality and fantasy were drawn all over the pages of this relationship.  I always felt as if I was in a dream, my eyes glossy, sleepy and hazed. They never seemed to see the real story.  I didn’t have control of this and I needed control back. My heart could not take any more disappointment. It was time to walk away.

            The romantic in me would not listen to that smart part of me. This relationship, at times, caused me to lose all of my senses.  I never knew which end was up.  I loved this man from the moment he opened his thick lipped mouth.  The words that came from it at times were more than poetic.  My ears would be full of his complements, resounding as if they were a church bell being ringed on a wedding day. We could talk for hours about everything.  He saved me from myself—the long monotonous chore of sitting in my space, staring at the wall, really never going anywhere but to bed.  I called him my savoir.  My heart really believed that. I could not tell it anything else.  The words she heard—we are just friends—tore at her very core. It was like the words sliced into my heart causing my chest to fill with the blood of hurt.  Disappointment they call it.

The cock block that fucked up my brain..

I find that there is a block on my brain. It causes me to do the dumbest shit EVER.


Like walk into a desk and dislocate my toe.

Listen to ANYTHING my ex says. He's a big liar.

And lastly write this fucking blog, that NO one is gonna read.

Sometimes...

I’ll make Love to you…

     Light winds blew through open windows scenting the air with Lilacs.  The bed was small, only enough space to force us to be right on top of each other.  He undressed me slowly, taking care with each piece and laying them on a chair as to keep them save during the time we would be together. He looked so gallant standing above me as I looked up into his hazel eyes. They had a calming effect on me, letting me know that I would be safe.

     My body exposed to him now, he sat next to me and looked me over. I wonder what was going through his mind. Did he find me attractive?  Was I what he wanted? Questions raced through my mind, distracted me even, until I felt someone grab my hand.

     I turned to face him. He smelled like baby powder and coco butter.  He kissed my lips softly. One kiss, two kiss, three kiss. We nibbled at each other’s lips taking our time to explore each other’s mouths. Our tongues tangoed for moments that past slowly. I felt my blood rushing through every inch of my body. I was becoming excited with ever touch and caress. I was so happy to be here with him at this moment.

     I had never been in love before. When Thomas and I met, it was magical. His kisses sent shivers through my body making me feel electric.  I had spent month kissing him and letting him explore my body through my clothes. It was now time to let my love loose.

     He laid me down on his bed, brought my arms above my head, and told me to stay still. It was like he was posing me for a portrait. He started that the tips of my fingers and worked his way down to the tips of my toes. Electric shocks raced through my body sending chills down my spine. I felt woozie.

     Our lips met, our bodies combined, fused together by love and lust. We painted a portrait of love filled with greens, reds, purples and oranges. Our bodies meshed together leaving the naked eye to have to search to see where his body began and my ended. I felt so loved.

     As he entered my soul, he looked into my eyes and told me he loved me and was happy to be with me. I felt a trust at he entered sending passion through body. I shuddered for a moment feeling weak but strong at the same time. I felt my body relax as he moved in and out, showing my body the path to its redemption. Our spirits sang to each other, a song of love.

     I held on tight. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to feel his warmth inside me forever. He dug in deeper and deeper searching for the depths of my insides sending them into ecstasy.   It was amazing.

     As the heavens opened up and we both felt the height of our souls combining, he looked into my eyes and I saw the world.

     “I love you,” he whispered.

     “I love you too,” I said before kissing him.

     We relaxed, still wrapped in each other’s arms. I was drunk with love. It felt great.

Love making is an art form. We all should experience it, but only some of us are lucky too.

You can tell a lot about a man by how many pockets his pants has.

I was talking to an old friend today who was  totally excited about the following pair of pants.
http://www.drjays.com/shop/P749291/utility-cargo-jeans.html

Now, I have come up with the theory that you can tell a lot of about a man by looking at his pants. I truly believe that the more pockets a man has in his pants, the more complicated he will be.

Men are already disorganized. And to think that having more pockets will help them stay organized is living proof that they are. Have you ever seen someone or been with someone who had more than the standard 2 to 4 pockets on pants??

This friend who LOVES those pants above, I have watched him countless amounts of times stand in the store, or at the movies, or before going to sleep, digging through multiple pockets looking for one thing. Even men who generally seem organized in their life, puts on these pants and just looses it.  Who wants a treasure chest in their pants?

I have a "cargo skirt" and I can't stand all those pockets. I originally bought it  because my guy at the time loved me in skirts and he also loves cargo anything. I wore that thing today and I can guarantee I will find something I lost the next time I wear them.  But I digress...

So here is a word to the wise.  Watch your man's pants. If you start seeing that he has more than he should. Talk to him, there maybe something going on in his life. This is a epidemic that needs to be stopped. We already have TOO many confused people out there. Let's nip this problem ASAP.

Agape.

Agape.

Love.

We all spend millions of hours searching for it in it's most perfect form. But what I think as humans' we fail to understand is that nothing is perfect and love is something that everyone has to work at.

Today I was in church and my pastor was talking about Agape as it relates to the lord and how we must love each other unconditionally. And how it takes work. She also talked about how as human's we judge each other before we even know each other. I guess I do that all the time. And I probably should stop. But what I really took away from what she was saying is that there is no perfect love. And I spent the first 32 years of my life looking for it.

So that say hindsight is a muthafucka and I have been punched in the face. Maybe my love wasn't perfect it, but it was perfect for me. So how do I get that back?

I just started and I am already behind.

Today is July 3rd. I was suppose to start blogging 2 days ago.Just like a writer to already behind before even starting.  I've spent the past year giving every excuse as to why I stopped writing: my mom was sick, job keeping me busy, my relationship was falling apart, my best friend died...the list goes on and on. But you know what world, it was all because I was scared. Scared that someone would read it. Scared that someone might actually like what i was writing. So I stopped.  But I can't be scared anymore. I have a gift (some say) and I should share it with the world. So world get ready...