....And Then The Sun Came Up

Refreshed, renewed, relaxed.
And then, this song always makes me smile...

3:51 a.m. Free Association

sleep, sleep, sleep
cold, hot, cold, hot....no I'm cold
how did this start?
oh yeah, my stomach ached
or was that my heart/ached?
what am I holding down?
music
music will bring it up
iPod
shuffle shuffle shuffle
past elliptical music
note: create play lists
note: add that to the list of plays
"good mourning"-india.arie
tear one
..two
...three
....i lost count
i hate my sensitivity
doesn't count...turn down, turn off
evacuate!!!!
where is my built in switch?
boys get all the good toys
"insomnia"-raheem devaughn
hey! even my shuffle knows what's up
almost don't want to sleep
usually the time for that reoccurring dream
he is a cute little boy though
stay sleep stay sleep stay sleep
just stay sleep and he'll speak
i wish he'd speak
his little voice will remind me what love sounds like
"i'll be waiting"-lenny kravitz
no the hell i won't!
i don't want to!
i'm ready to go!
this place is old!
i want out!
RUUUUUUUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
tear one
..two
.....lost count
i remember the last time i was like this
i am heartbroken
in several places
for many reasons
i don't care to continue to admit that
i'll consider that the last time i do
quiet tortured soul of mine
this side never leaves my side
"don't let me down"-amel larrieux
but...
you already have

Role Reversals

I was talking to my mother recently about my current situation. I'm in a new city after having been laid off in Virginia. So, I packed it up and headed down I-85 a month and a half ago and now I'm finding my way. Finding a job, making new friends, dating possibilities, etc. We talk often now because she's worried. It's strange when you become an adult how the roles reverse. You end up comforting your parents and encouraging them to get through your adulthood. My father even told me to let him know if he's "hovering" which I thought was cute as he had taken somewhat of a hands off approach to me and my sister over the last several years until now. He was always a good father, never absent, always on time, but very much about himself and his own opinion. If you pay attention you notice the evolution of conversations with parents. They tell you things that maybe they wouldn't have told you when you were younger. Perhaps for the good of all parties. But one thing is very clear; my parents believe in me. In separate but equal ways. My mother knows me best just based on the fact that she is who raised me for the most part. My parents divorced when I was four years old so I don't remember ever living with my father as some of my memories as a child are blurred. For no reason really. I just have a bad memory. My sister remembers most of it-amazing to me. 85-90% of my growth and development I owe to my mother. My father is more formal. He knows the business side of me and he thinks I border on genius (which is far from true), but I let him believe that.

So when my mother made the following statement to me, "Aja, you've never done anything the easy way", I was at first taken aback. I wasn't sure if I should be offended or thank her for sharing that with me. She was speaking mainly about my choice to just get up and move, but after asking her, she meant as far as she could remember. I did a quick inventory on what I could remember as a child to now just to see if she was right. At least, to the degree that she knows about, she was right. The first thing that came to mind was when I was four, my sister was five and already in school and learning how to read. Well instead of waiting until it was my turn to go to school and let the teachers teach me how to read, I taught myself how to read. No way was my sister going to do what I couldn't do! English ended up being my best subject all through school. I thought of when I swore I was in love in high school with this guy named Tony, who I was forbidden from seeing, how I somehow snuck off with him and ended up in Stockton California, which was about a two hour drive from where we lived. Well, Tony decided he didn't want to drive me back to the city, so I got stranded up there and ended up in a foster home for the rest of the day because the cops thought I was a runaway. This is funny to me now, but traumatic at the time. Needless to say my mother was furious because she had to come get me. From that I learned what kind of relationships to not involve myself in. I had a few struggles in Virginia. I moved there when I was 17 for college, was terribly homesick during the first several weeks and had not made friends. My mother begged me to come home. I refused. I made some really good friends, enjoyed college and grew up. My first apartment was with a friend at the time, who ended up being a horrible roommate and we fell out in the worst way, so I wanted out. A friend and I moved my stuff, on foot, at midnight, in the rain from one unit to another, which was about a quarter mile each way. That was a very trying night, but we got it done and I learned to live alone.

There are numerous occasions like these, all choices I made, none easier than the one before. But each one gave me something I didn't have before. The physical move here was not easy. It was expensive, stressful, isolated, lonely, sometimes it's still lonely and I don't know where it's going. But 17 and homesick, moving on foot in the rain, in love with the wrong man, not waiting on someone to teach me what I could just teach myself are all traits I own. The willingness to do something impossible, not always waiting on someone to do for me what I can do for myself, knowing that sometimes being stubborn bares good fruit and realizing that once the hurt dies off, heart break will cause it to beat ten times stronger for "the one". My mother, I'm sure can pull up these moments up in her mind like a spinning Rolodex and some she would have liked to have shielded me from. When we talk now and there is that tone of worry lingering at the back of each of her statements, I'll continue to comfort her. It's my responsibility as a product of her and a product of my own decisions. I'll be sure she knows I've been bent to my limits, but I never broke. She'll be aware of the tears I've shed, but that my head was always to the sky. She'll be reassured that I don't just hope, I expect.

"Got Me Changing My Expression...I Don't Express"

I'm sorry, but I just think this is funny...LOL!! "Over and Under"

This Is Old, But Jill Has No Expiration Date

NASTY.....

Pandora's Dating Box {Scene 1}

First dates. The 50% predictability of "that shit sucked" story always to follow. Homegirl took full advantage of that dirty stat about a week ago! So, I've decided to make this an ongoing subject, as it occurs of course. I don't plan on being a serial dater-it's not my style and partially in poor taste now that I'm in my 30s.

I have not dated in a while. I've been laying low, dormant, recharging my emotional batteries over the past couple years. Whatever it's to be, I want it to start out quite differently than my last "relationship" did. Bad foundation, all sorts of cracks...not made to pass inspection let alone for long habitation. At any rate, I decided new place, some new parts of me, why the hell not. The downside of not dating for a while is being out of the where to meet men loop. That's a broad question however, so the true question is where to meet:

God fearing

Intelligent

Has a job

No gold teeth

Has all his teeth

Has a car

DOESN'T LIVE WITH MAMA (we'll get back to that in a bit)

Has no strange obsessions (we will also visit that)

Sans multiple children, preferably none

Honorable

Heterosexual (full time, not when there's nothing better around)

Funny

Good looking (at least my speed)

Loves music

Not over 35

Clever/witty

The list goes on and on and on and....lastly....respects my crazy!

Men?

And yes, that was all ONE question. So I go where everyone goes to do creeping things, sneaking things, kinky things, secret things and of course, shopping things. The Internet. I'm not going to say what site, but it's yielded very few results for a multitude of disrespectful reasons. But I finally came across "a diamond" in the rough. Right age, no children, job, appeared to have a car (at least according to the picture), plays the drums (musician bonus) and good looking. The minimum requirements for me to entertain giving out my cell number. All good on paper. I would later learn, the paper has two sides and one of them is blank. I reached out, he reached back, we set up the safe mid day coffee date. You know, 30 minutes max kind of setting. It all started out pretty well. He was his picture, his truck was true, his job existed and no yuck mouth in sight. But I wouldn't be here if it were all good....I'd be somewhere up in his face. Detail for detail, this story gets boring, but here's the breakdown:

He DOES live with his mother! No comment...use your imagination.

He DOES have what I would consider a strange obsession and I must must must go off on a tangent about this one. He collects magazines!! What the fuck grown man does this shit? Now I would consider this past time/hobby just fine if we're talking rare Time magazine covers or old comic books. Even magazine covers of current historic events, like all things Obama-I get that. No, nah uh...I don't get the normals like that. This fool collects King Magazine, Vibe and never to be left behind, Ebony! What the shit? His argument and let's face it, it needs one even if I don't buy it, was that these publications might one day be worth money. Let me tell you something, never ever, not never, in ever, as long as never is ever will any of those magazines be worth anything more than the damn ass load of money they charge for them!!! If anything, you're in the red!! No profit margin can be realized from Angel Lola Luv's ass in glossy print! Granted her ass should be considered a National Monument and wreaths should be hung from it as an 8th wonder, but King Magazine....really? And he bragged! He went on like a school girl that scribbles variations of her name across every open space of her binder and the last name of some school boy she's in love with attached to those variations! He described to me in complete unsolicited detail the case he keeps them in!!! My personal titty could have been laying on the table in front of him and his eyes wouldn't have expressed as much happiness as his overly detailed, half ass thought out hobby. I only hope the entire expression on my face said "I could give a shit dude!" So all this to say, this is not a hobby. I would even give a free pass and say it's not an obsession. This is a clear case of a pack rat. That is part of the list. We're done here sir!

So what finally pushed it over the top, was how much of a picky eater this man is. He doesn't eat cucumbers or anything that comes on a salad, including the lettuce and ANY salad dressing. He's never even had crab. Did I happen to mention that I'm a "sushi whore"? So I can't even get this man on a basic California Roll! This list also goes on and on and on. It got to a point in the conversation where I told him to tell me what he does like, because I think that list is shorter. Anyone who knows me, has dated me, has eaten out with me or has ever talked to me about food knows that I am a foodie to the letter. I love to cook, I love to eat, I love to watch food being cooked and I love to watch people eat. It sounds fat I know, but what-a-ya-gonna-do? He then, called me 45 minutes after the date was over, in which it's important for me to mention that we only spent an hour and half together, to ask me to "grade" the date. I have NEVER had a man, anyone, ask me this. I think it's entirely inappropriate, lacks confidence-which is major-and wide is the door that swings when you ask this question. Especially when you ask, me. So I was honest. However, I put it all in perspective, pet peeve violations aside and gave him a B-. And can you believe it, a B- got questioned! I explained why the B- and it turned into an argument. He was arguing for a better grade! The hell? This ain't 3rd period Spanish! You get what you get cause you asked!!! I ended that conversation and have not had any interest in knowing his whereabouts since.

Date diagnosis:

What should he have done differently?

Instead of asking me for a grade on the date, he should have just had the balls to either A) ask me out on a second date or B) simply ask me if I had a good time. Option B alone would have gotten him a more favorable response because I would have said I had a nice time. The truth is, I did. It was nice getting out on a Sunday afternoon which I enjoy. But he played his hand all kinds of wrong from Sunday. He provided too much information up front which made it very easy for me to form an opinion about him based on what I'm sure are limited parts of his personality. But he beamed about them. And finally, when he asked me a question and I gave him the honest answer, he decided to fight me on it. What does this say to me about our future communication?

What did I take from the date?

I am ready to put myself out there again. I believe that's what my useless magazine collecting, picky eating, mama's house living, drummer boy was designed for.

I certainly hope he finds a woman to march to those beats. But for now, I have my own rhythm...

Cypher(s)

It's usually a story, a moment, a sentence that spins me off in one direction or another. Today it was information about a complete stranger. It was sad. It's the kind of information that can and should change the momentum of our thoughts and our lives. Someone is dying. Someone who for all intents and purposes should not be. I don't know this individual personally, but does it matter to be human? I'm in a place in my life that I never thought I'd be at "just 30". But I'm here and I have mixed emotions about it; there are layers. But in hearing this story, I have to say, I'm certain this young man is not where he thought he would be either. And suddenly, as macrabe as this and his families story is, it beams hope. In the immediate sense, perhaps not, but in the true sense, absolutely. My heart aches for his wife and his children and naturally for him. The reality brings with it a sense of personal nothingness and a measure of guilt. Guilt because, just this morning, I was thinking about how bored I am and how frustrating this whole looking for a job thing has been for me. Personal nothingness is the "cypher(s)".

Cypher is defined in many ways with the majority being more rooted in a mathematical term or equation. But it also means something of no value or importance. In other words, zero, so still mathematically weighted. Whatever feelings I thought I had about my own situation went away this morning. I felt small and insignificant in the face of my own life and this man is dying, yet he's tall, he's strong in the world. He "knows where he is going". How easily we get caught up in our cyphers and forget that we did not build this thing. It is not our design; it is by design. We are all where we are for a reason and no it's not always fair. It's not right that this woman is loosing her husband after such a short period of time of what I understand as a happy union. It's not fair that she might soon be a widow and she is not yet out of her 20's. It is unjust that she will be a single mother and will have to explain to her children, when they reach the age of comprehension, what death means and that is what happened to their daddy. Before proms, first dates, first kisses, first loves and first heartbreaks by some little boy or little girl that daddy might not be around for to kiss and make better. What a task this woman has before her. I pray for her and at the same time, I envy her level of faith that was explained to me.

Rivers flow from my eyes on this one. I told my friend that told me this story about this man, this woman, her husband, his wife and their family that this is the precise moment along the road of life that you realize how bad you really don't have it. Things are never as bad as we believe they are. I admittedly got caught up in my own cypher, not the first time, perhaps not the last, but now I have a heightened sense of awareness about it. Some reference point of "shame on me" for being so selfish. There are bridges with people in my life I have torn down, have made impossible to cross and quite likely not in a position to be rebuilt. There are words I've used to cut into people like a butchers cleaver because, well I could, it was easy and I usually got the desired affect at the time. It was by design for me to hear that story today I feel. Beautiful design. This is a time of reflection. As sad as I feel in this moment, my emotions could never touch this woman's. I'm glad to feel this. This is actual. I'm standing on the outside of my cypher. I pray to always be looking in on it as opposed to being the driving force inside of it.