4am

I’ve been awake since 4am. Funny enough I didn’t go to bed until after midnight. I wasn’t doing anything important like editing my poetry manuscript which I’ve just received from my editor or paying bills. I wasn’t doing anything fun or anything that felt good. I was arguing.

My arguments are interesting in that I don’t argue very much. I’ve never felt like I was one of those people who could, in the heat of an argument, get my feelings or facts out in a very eloquent way. In fact my arguments (I’ve been told) are reminiscent of a four year old, I raise my voice, I sway back and forth, I punch the covers. I can’t get out what I need to for the other person to understand me. My verbal communication is trash. A whole fucking dumpster of flaming dog shit. And it physically hurts. Hence the reason why I don’t do it very often.

So I argued until midnight, went to bed, and awoke at 4 am. Since then I’ve been sitting around thinking what I could have said better, how I could’ve said it better, or better yet how I could’ve avoided an argument in the first damn place. You see, we don’t argue. We have probably had four arguments in as many years. For a number of reasons. Mostly because I see something I don’t like and I adapt to it. I deal with it on my own. For two reasons:

1. I don’t believe that adults can change their behaviors. They have had these same behaviors for most of their lives and a lover or a friends annoyance or uncomfortability isn’t really going to change that.

2. I question every single thing that  happens. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the way I reacted to that. Maybe I should’ve done this differently. Maybe I should’ve done that differently. Yadda. Yadda. Blah blah blah. I attribute most things that go wrong in my life to myself. I am responsible for my own experience and all that jazz.

Yes I know I created the word uncomfortability and just slipped it in there like you wouldn’t realize it. *shrugs*

I do question though, how much another person is responsible for when it comes to another person that they are in a relationship with be it romantic or not. Do you owe your spouse a modicum of understanding when it comes to most things? Should  you try to gauge whether your friend is comfortable about a thing? Especially when they are exhibiting signs that things are not a ok.

What say you?

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Because Sometimes You Need To Spill Your Guts To Everyone You Know And Some You Don’t.

I just want to write and write and read and write and read some more. And since I’m me of course, I want to read some more. And since today was such a shitty fucking day I blame my mother.

Why?

Because on shitty days I remember that I wanted to be a writer and a teacher and while I’ll admit that I would’ve been a horrible teacher-I cant decide whether I selectively like children or not- I would’ve been a great writer. Prolific. Genius level. Or so I think. Who knows.

We certainly won’t ever and for that, I blame my mom. Like most black mothers she told me that I needed to become a nurse or something that would pay well so that I could take care of myself. So of course I secretly vowed not to. Only to do exactly that.

So when today was a shitty day becuase my partner wasn’t very partnerish and I got sucky news about a writing thing that I was really looking forward to, I spent most of my day sobbing about the fact that I would rather have been a struggling writer and went to some shitty as liberal arts school so that I could have at least known what it was like to be what I want to be most, a trained writer.

I also vented to one of my best friends for an hour only to be informed that I have “white people problems” translation rich people problems. (No my ass is not rich.) So let’s say first world problems. I did laugh when he said it because I’m not silly, I realize in the midst of my breakdown that three black men have died this week and America is losing it’s mind over whether disobeying a police officer is reason enough to die. And maybe that’s why I’m feeling so stuck, so tired of doing shit that doesn’t make me all the way happy, because life is so fucking short. Even more short when you’re black and a woman.

Regardless, in this moment I am miserable, whiskey and apple juice does not cure anything, and I just want to write, and write, and write some more. And maybe sleep.

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Travel Chronicles Act I

Laguardia Airport. There’s a Spanish lady white shirt, black pants, sensible black shoes. She’s driving a Toyota SUV. She’ll get you to wherever you’re going. It’s going to cost you $75. She doesn’t give a solitary fuck if you take her up on this offer. 

Her face says “Don’t give me no shit. Take it or leave it. The price is the price.” 

She’s appealed to a woman who follows behind her like a puppy waiting for her to get enough riders to make this trip worthwhile. The group of Asian ladies are not here for this lady, her brash demeanor, and they’re really not here for the $75 a piece. $75 times 5? No.

There’s a guy. White. Black suit, white shirt, leather computer bag. Typical New York business man. He’s not here for her shit but he needs a ride. 

“Sir, it’s gonna be an hour ride. I’ll get you there. You wanna go or Not?” She pauses in her steps barely momentarily as she allows him to make up his mind. She has shit to do. He follows. They leave. 

On Things We Should Never Forget

Sundays at the beach:I read articles, blog, and write.

She meets random people who invite her to do Acroyoga. 

I am both astonished at the beauty of life and because today is 9/11, I am also disgustingly aware of my privilege. 

I hope as people change their profile pictures to reflect on how we will Never Forget that they’re not smiling. Idk, there’s something that just doesn’t sit well with my soul every time something terrible happens and the Internet becomes flooded with smiling profile pictures, boobs up, hats cocked, teeth shining with banners across the bottom talking about how they stand with Paris, Syria, New York. 

I reflect on how the same people who can understand that 9/11 should be remembered yearly can get angered about the fact that people of color in this country are still being killed over misdemeanors and demanding (begging) to have fair treatment. (I.E if my brother is accused of a crime please just take him to jail, don’t kill him before her gets to see a judge, and don’t sentence him to a thousand years of prison labor for stealing a swisher sweet.)

Even though We The People are supposed to have the right to a fair trial. And since we don’t Colin, and whoever else should (can) do whatever they can/want to draw attention to the injustices that their people are still facing. I mean isn’t that the purpose of changing your profile pic in solidarity. To draw attention? Or is that something else that’s only reserved for certain people? 

And since I’m on the beach thinking of priviliges that are reserved for certain people I’m reminded that 63 years ago I couldn’t have even come to this beach
I’m reminded of all of the many reasons we still have so much further to go and I hope that we get a lot further a lot faster. And I pray that too many people don’t lose too much to get us there. 

Sundays on the beach. I’m privileged. I watch random men throw my wife around acrobatically. I enjoy the breeze. I listen to Sean sang about how One Man Can Change The  World. And I hope that one man can. Or one woman can. And I hope that they do it soon.

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Same Stuff Different Day

I’m still nursing. People come in and sit around fidgeting while they wait for their issues to be diagnosed. Sometimes, when appropriate I make them laugh. I relate to them. I let them know that this isn’t anything that any of us really want to deal with.

In my head, as all nurses do, I diagnose them: rheumatoid arthritis, liver problems, diabetes. I don’t say anything even when they begin to share their ailments because we all take the vow not to diagnose people. No matter how much training we have we aren’t skilled enough to diagnose people.

It’s the same. I’m not a doctor. I’m not a mechanic. I don’t tell them that I think that their brakes are bad or that what they’re describing sounds like their power steering pump is going out.

I use my training to  let trained people do what they are trained to do and when they give me the go ahead I break the bad news. I sit next to people or I stand behind the counter, depending on what the customer needs. I try to break it to them easily, gently. No one wants to hear that their compressor, the heart of the ac system isn’t working. No one wants to hear that because they didn’t come in for their regularly scheduled check ups a simple thing has gotten out of control and they now need a new rotor, transmission, engine.

I’m still nursing. I left nursing but I am still nursing. Still taking care of people.

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There’s Enough Activism For All of Us Stop Throwing SHade

unnamed.jpgI’m very aware of the things that I say out of my mouth, through my pen, or by virtue of my keyboard. I’m mindful of the pictures, books, images, audio- the everything that I both put into  or out of my body. Which is why you will be hard pressed to see me share horrible videos or images. I never need to see the body of a dead person in order to empathize with their families. I don’t need to watch the video of someone being murdered in order to feel like the value that we as a society places on humans is far too little. I don’t believe that police nor civilians deserve to die. And I don’t spend my time sharing any of this on the internet.

Sometimes, on very rare occasions I wonder if people notice my silence. If they assume that I feel one way or the other. If they judge me because I’m not posting my outrage on the internet.

Sometimes, on very rare occasions I wonder if my absence is noted at the town halls or on the picket lines. If people judge me because I very rarely attend these types of things.

And then I wake up and remember that while some people are social media warriors and spreading knowledge on the internet my feet are actually on the ground. I have been doing things like putting on our Back to School Bash and Girl Talk in The Park for years. I have donated numerous times to  way too many causes to name. Food, money, clothes, utilizing my network, etc etc etc. Most of the time without so much as a share from those same social media warriors. AND I don’t judge them. I understand that there is enough activism for all of us.

Whether you choose to be an internet activist or get your feet on the ground in your own town your work matters. We are all doing the work.This world/ our community needs the work of multiple people supporting multiple causes in multiple ways. Each of these causes is important and each of these people, no matter which way they choose to support them is important. The separation that is currently happening over who is the bigger activist and whose activism is better is utterly ludicrous and I for one wish that we would support each other as easily as we shade or look down on each other.I mean seriously don’t we all have BIGGER things to do?

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On Being Way Over This Election

IDK about you but I am pass the point of tired of:

this election

racism

sexism

xenophobia

terrorism

all of it

Like seriously as a world I think we should take the whole batch of it and dump it into the trash. Then we should light it all on fire and go have a cook out. Unknown-5.jpeg

I mean really, 99.9919892 of us already know who we’re voting for. We knew as soon as the nominees were announced. And when the people we really wanted to win the nomination didn’t win, we knew which one of the second string quarterbacks we were voting for. SO then why as a country do we continue to waste money, time, emotions, and brain cells over this popularity contest of a farce of an election?

Nope I’m not saying your vote doesn’t count. I’m saying arguing over which contestant (cause it is a damn contest) is the best contestant via the internet for fifty eleven months, unfriending your grandma, and being kicked off of your soccer team just doesn’t cause any forward motion for our country’s real concerns.

Like I am this close:

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to quitting the internet until we have “chosen” a president. Seriously what’s the point of losing friends over people who secretly hang out and shoot golf together on the weekends while they separate the rest of the country for fun Monday-Friday.

And as for all of the rest of it it is; 2016. Two thousand and sixteen years post the year of most of y’alls Lord and Savior and we are really wasting time, money, and brain cells practicing isms. I’m not saying we need to hold hands and sway to Kumbaya but maybe we should. AKA Get it together, Mind Your Own Business, and Realize that you and your people are no better than anyone else and their people.

Until Next Time,

Live Happy

 

Oh and usually I welcome comments and critiques but I am no more interested in arguing about politics than I am in buying a $2 Make America Great Again T-Shirt. #Silliness

Damn Joe, We Were All Depending on You: I Hated The Fireman

This week I completed Joe Hill’s The Fireman.

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I hated it. I hated the characters and how weak they were. How stupid they were. How mean and evil they were. The writing is good because: Joe Hill aka Stephen King is his daddy. How could he write bad. But uh…

 

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If I hadn’t read some of his other stuff like:

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which was AMAZING, I would never read him again.

That’s how pissed off these characters made me.I read this book in full on yell at the book mode. Some of the things that happened in this book were Straight up lets have sex while Jason is at the window, stupid.

 

Like: No, don’t go that way. Don’t drink that!! Hurry up!!! Why are you staying there they’re going to kill your baby??!

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If this book were a movie I would tell Lisa Puckett ( my peach biffle) that her people needed to sue because of they way that they were portrayed in it.

I gave it:

🌟🌟

Very generous stars.
Read at your own risk because I definitely threw this book in the corner.

Oh yeah; I know he’s getting rave reviews and this book just made the New York Times Bestsellers List *shrugs*

Me Before You: A Lesson in Heartbreak

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As a constant reader your heart will be broken frequently. If you’ve been reading the way that I have been; constantly since I was four years old, then you are attuned to the impending heartbreak of a novel, usually from the moment that you open the book.

So when I opened Me Before You and met Lou I knew without a doubt that I was going to have my heart broken… splintered into a thousand teeny tiny pieces and I craved that heartbreak. Because the only way that my heart wouldn’t become broken would have been if the writer took the easy way out and made this story into one of those cliched, dreaded happy ending novels. You know the ones: girl meets assholish boy, girl changes/accepts boys assholish ways, and they live happily ever after.

Jojo Moyes does not disappoint. She has written a thoroughly researched novel about heartbreak, pain, love, and the transformation that all of these things will cause in a human’s life.

I know, I know, I’ve waxed on poetically and I haven’t even told you what the book is about. Probably because, I couldn’t describe it adequately in my current blubbery state but Goodreads does an amazing job:

“Lou Clark knows lots of things. She knows how many footsteps there are between the bus stop and home. She knows she likes working in The Buttered Bun tea shop and she knows she might not love her boyfriend Patrick.

What Lou doesn’t know is she’s about to lose her job or that knowing what’s coming is what keeps her sane.

Will Traynor knows his motorcycle accident took away his desire to live. He knows everything feels very small and rather joyless now and he knows exactly how he’s going to put a stop to that.

What Will doesn’t know is that Lou is about to burst into his world in a riot of colour. And neither of them knows they’re going to change the other for all time. ”

And oh how they change. The journey that they take along their transformation is both annoying (because seriously Lou stop being so damned self involved. and Really Will you don’t have to be such an asshole all of the time) and amazing (when you realize that Will is the first person who’s ever really seen Lou your heart will stop) and I enjoyed every second of it.

You will see this book touted as a love story, it isn’t. It is in fact a social commentary on euthananasia, quality of life, and whether someone should be able to decide for themselves what they should or should not do about their life if they are unhappy with it. It is also an example of what happens when one becomes stuck in  a certain lifestyle out of necessity and what can happen when one’s status quo abruptly changes.

As a nurse I struggled with the euthanasia subject because I have met people who have zero quality of life and are absolutely miserable, who are kept alive because someone loves them enough to think that they should be kept alive by any means necessary. And I’ve stated to myself and my co-workers how selfish those people are. BUT usually those people are older or not cognitively there. To be forced to face my prejudices on this subject with a young person who is fully there cognitively was such a great lesson for me.

There are a few areas where the author used her creative license ie: Louisa being hired to be someone’s companion even though she has no experience, the issues that Lou and her family have (two adult children arguing over clothes and who gets the bigger bed) but to me those things added to the story. Also my mother’s fully grown children still climb into her bed and are selfish as hell so *shrugs* I won’t ding her for those as I have seen others do. Besides if Louisa would have been the appropriate choice for the job Will would have never let her get so close to him and the story wouldn’t have progressed so I’m glad that he was the reason behind her growth.

For the first time in a long time I have used all of my stars and rated Me Before You 5 Stars!! ALL 5 of EM!

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If you’ve read it let me know if you loved it as much as I did in the comments. Especially if you’re a caretaker, nurse, or a person with disabilities. (I think she did a pretty good job of describing all of the BS people with disabilities go through but even though I’m a nurse I’m an AB so I’m not an authority on this. )

Oh and Spoiler ALERT! There is a movie adaptation coming out on June 3rd and it looks sooooo good. Check out the trailer here: Me Before You and remember to  #LiveBoldly

drowned 

Sadly lovely

sheila sea

when I was 5 years old

the ocean swallowed me

and I swallowed her .

my uncle pulled my body

out of the ripping tides

and forced her out.

in the moments

of my drowned recollection

i only hoped that I was going

where I was meant to be

and indeed fate intervened.

I hope this is the same.

I hope your leaving

is just life

being forced

back into my lungs.

– sheila c

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