LoveHater... Hater of Love


I know me. There are things that I do that I know are simply ridiculous but I still do it. They say the first step of recovery is acceptance, I accept the fact that I can be a loon at times. I'll explain:
When I like someone, I experience three tiers of emotion: (1) Excitement... new guy, new conversations, it's exciting to meet someone new and see if they are cool enough to kick it with. I'll talk about him all the time to my friends and give them a blow by blow of every conversation. (2) Denial (of the crush): My old roommate calls this bi-polar intimacy (she's brilliant), reminiscent of the days when little boys would dip a girls pig tails in ink, this is the part where I totally deny the fact that I ever met this person. I am annoyed if anyone asks me about this person and I unfortunately treat the natural progression of this potential relationships as the flu. I feel myself changing as it begins to take over, though it's obvious to everyone around me, I'm irritated that I'm being that obvious and deny everything; I am distracted and stare off into space like a nut, and I'm mad at myself for allowing it to happen to me, rolling my eyes with a here-we-go-again attitude; I'm cranky and annoyed with my self...Crazy, right? People bask in the glory of crushes and things of that nature while I'm mad and thinking of what I could have done to prevent it. I am eventually worn down and I allow it do it's thing (3) Acceptance: I am once again speaking about this person and admit that I liked them before. It's now supercharged into an obsession and I'm once again running off at the head to my friends: Oh! So-and-so loves that song, too! Oh, So-and-so is allergic to that! Oh, So-and-so hated that movie! I know that my friends could care less about what he ate for breakfast or his mother's maiden name but I can't help but share.
I know this stems from my obsession with control, not over others, but more of myself. I hate the inevitability of things; my inability to change things that are going to happen anyway. Love is a wonderful thing, my beef is the fact I can't control all of it; my only comfort is knowing I can control my actions... you can't always control your feelings, but you can control your actions. Ahh, control is my cigarette, when I have it, I can sigh, relax, and know that everything is okay...

The Moon...

I've always had a thing for the moon. Ever since I was a child, I would gaze up at it all solid, silent, and round mysteriously gliding across the sky. I know it's crazy but I think of the sun as sound, or noise, like a trumpet and the moon as silence, even though at night all the nocturnal creatures are awake and screaming. The moon is soft and forgiving like a cotton ball, and unlike the sun, you can look into it without doing major damage to your cornea. It's not just a big rock floating in the sky, it's "the man on the moon"; a huge ear ready to listen, it's 'the root of imagination and poetry, it's the official stamp stating that the day has ended. My favorite time of the year is during the season of the harvest moon. It's around October and November, when the moon is closest to the earth and it's huge, yellow, and playfully daunting. Back in the day, people were able to harvest during the night by the light of the engorged moon, ergo the name.

Raised in an herbal household (and no I don't mean weed) we took vitamins and things of that nature all the time. Seeing the moon huge and powdery, would remind me of a vitamin and I would smile and think tsk, tsk, God hasn't taken his vitamin for the day, his Mama is going to be mad... I may be the only person on Earth who remembers this but McDonald's used to have a commercial with the moon dressed in a tuxedo looking like a lounge singer playing the piano and singing "It's Mac Tonight!" (to the rhythm of "Mack the Knife") I adored that commercial...I don't worship it or feel that it has any spiritual or magical powers, but it does mystify me.

I like how the moon is humble. It controls water like a conductor leads an orchestra and does it with subtle power, and the obedient ocean obliges to its gravitational pull...I could go on and on...I will spare you.

My Dearest Friend...

She has been my friend for nearly eight years and could be either commended or condemned for remaining the same. We were so close in high school because we were so similar: stubborn, immovable, naive, and loud about it. Though we have similarities today, I feel that I have morphed and grown (at least I'm trying to) and she has remained the same. Thoughts and views of a 16 or 17 year old will not (should not) be the same as the thoughts of a 22 or 23 year old. My aunt told me when I went to college, that the summer after your freshman year is the hardest. You will return home and feel like everyone is treating you like a child and your friends will have either changed for the better or remained stagnant. She couldn't have been any more correct. My friend remained stubborn, and to me, very close minded. It's as if she is stuck and cannot move forward. It's so frustrating to want to share the things you have discovered with someone and instead of them taking it in and possibly applying it to their own lives, they discard it as if it were unimportant. Attending an HBCU was one of the best decisions I have made in my life. It has helped me to see how so much diversity can be found in one group of people. She too attended one but did not absorb it and allow it to fertilize her thought processes. I don't want to change her but I want her to learn. I am unfortunately beginning to outgrow her. I have sat in a quiet place and tried to decide whether I was being self righteous or condescending and I have come to the conclusion that I am not. In fact, I have tried to lessen my excitement about self discovery in order for her to feel okay with her decisions. I have spoken to many of our mutual friends and they can relate. It's sad to see someone walk into negative situations that are avoidable, over and over again despite the fact they have been forewarned. I have not decided what to do about the matter but something has to happen. I told her when I started my blog and sent her my address and our mutual friend's. I know she has not read it and as I type this blog I feel free to say what I please because she is totally uninterested in things like this: revealing oneself and putting your feelings into print; even if it is your friends. I'm not saying that she has to do the same, this isn't for everyone but I just hope she will sit in a quiet place, close her eyes and think over her past, present, and future life decisions and see if she is going about them in the most efficient way. I will have to wait and see...

New Orleans...

At times like this, I wish I could master a language... any language. So I could eloquently express how I feel about things. I would love to divulge my thoughts clearly so I could read them to myself and think "That's exactly what I wanted to say!". This blog is for me to release my thoughts, things that affect me to my bones and rattle my soul. Only days before the storm hit, I was working on a poem of New Orleans, a city that I have loved since I was a child and was totally enamored with every time I visited it. I was so pissed to hear on our local radio station here in Nashville, an insensitive DJ had a poll of whether or not the city of New Orleans should rebuild. A caller phoned and said: " Duh, like of course they should like rebuild, like, where are we gonna like have Mardi Gras next year?!" And they both laughed... as if that's all this great city had to offer...
My fondest memories are in that city. I'm not talking getting drunk and running around with beads type of memories, but rather staying at a bed and breakfast with my mother, talking in cafes at 3am, watching street performers of every sort earn their living, dancing in the street with my sisters, and discovering the rich history the city nonchalantly held in its hands. New Orleans to me is what Paris was to Josephine Baker; she was in love with the city and it understood her, I can totally relate. So many dreams have been washed away, many of mine included, and my prayer is that they are able to have better and more improved ideas and plans for themselves, not just there but in every city that was touched by the hurricane. Southerners are a resilient people. I have no reason to doubt their ability to rise above this. I can picture old Grandpas of the future in rocking chairs personifying Katrina and describing her as the "hand of God". Speaking of who they lost and how they themselves survived...God bless y'all...