Hot Tears

I hate crying. I hate crying because when I start its almost impossible for me to stop. It’s pretty much over. I look light skinned after. I cry all of the chocolate away. I cry like that in the shower only. That way no one will hear me. I do. I cry.

Wait. I’m lying. Vasco Road. The path that gets me to and from work has seen many of my tears. Hot tears rolling down my cool check, burning with my vision blurry. My chest contracts in and out with my hand not serving as an adequate to tissue to wipe away the residue.

The reasons why I cry evolve as I let it flow. First, its my body and all it glorious imperfections. I then progress to my Spirit man and what I should be doing more of to make sure that I stay close to the Maker. Then my mama, my money and last but not least my man (who doesn’t exist in my life yet). The one I really want. That almost fictional character that I’ve fathomed time and time again in my mind. He who is loving and cherishing my every thought and breath. Strong armed, big dimpled face with breathtakingly kind eyes. A chocolate specimen so delectable you want to lick his skin! As the tears flow I secretly pray that he is looking for me as hard as I am desiring him…whoever he may be. The tears really flow then! A mixture of warm liquid and salt. Red and now bruised skin sensitive to even my own touch. Transforming my pretty face into an exact replica of a peach pit out of my grandmother’s garden.

Tears have a cleansing capability. They wash the soul. As hard as it is to endure a good hot cry always makes me feel better.

From Pigtails to Ponytails

My little girl just turned 9 years old. She is my only child. My pride and joy. She is liking the 26 pigtails with matching barrettes for each outfit alot less these days. The graduation from pigtails to ponytails is just as significant in a little girls life as your first menstrual cycle. It’s a rite of passage. It means that your leaving a lot of those “little girl” things behind. Playing with dolls a little less and testing the limits on the telephone. Looking at my daughter I see how she is changing already. Her face is slimming even more. Her gorgeous features are morphing her into an even more exotic beauty. My “baby” is less of a baby without me being able to get a hold of my feelings on the subject.

I think it’s hard for me because I vaguely remember who I was at that age. So uncertain, looking for confidence under a rock if I had to do. My child on the other hand is a little more free with her statements, a lot less calculated. She’s basically more comfortable in her skin. Ms. Thing is still sweet and young but thoughtful. She is not afraid to show interest in her friends and wanting sleepovers. Does it help that she got a cell phone for Christmas at 8 years old? She doesn’t really use it but by 11 I’m sure I will have to set guidelines. It’s all happening so fast. I want to slow time down. I want to go back to that Monday afternoon when I held her for the first time. She opened her eyes for the first time and looked up at me. Instant connections were made between she and I; we became linked for life.

By the time I was 13 years old I was certain that my father was a complete and absolute idiot. He knew nothing. Every word he uttered was jibberish and he needed to check himself into a mental hospital fast! My constant state of “lockdown” in my sheltered young teenage existence might have had a part in my perception of the man who was raising me. So that is why I know days of “not exactly adoration” are coming for me and my little legacy. Its nature. I can’t fight it. But its’ not my job to worry about the future so much. I’m sure the best thing for me to do is enjoy that she loves me like crazy right now.

I’ll end this post by sharing a poem my “mini me” wrote just a few days ago…

To My Beautiful Mom:

You are the key to my world and the light of me.
I love you forever and more.
The end.

*wipes tears*

I Wanna Dance With Somebody

Another "Bucket List" item for me is to "dance like nobody's watching".  Only problem is, I can't.  I want to but my feet won't move.  I've gotten in the mirror and shuffled back and forth but the thought of even "me" watching me dance makes me want to pick up the carpet and crawl under for all eternity.  Just like my singing, when I'm in my head I'm graceful, smooth, daring as I look people in they eye.  They always break contact first of course because I'm killing it.  Strangers marvel at my footwork/gyration combos. All of this with a mischievious smirk.

Delusion. I must get out more. O_o

Disingenuous Flexibility

When I'm bent out of shape I have a one track mind. I'm outraged and and disgruntled by the person, persons or occurence that has ruffled my feathers. I'm good at holding grudges and picking apart the scenario until I feel better or justified in the fact that I am unequivocally right in all ways, shapes or forms. While in my fit of self-righteous appreciation for all things Jess my vision is a blur. A red haze is about me and I am void of hearing all arguments that do not agree with the clear and precise case that I have set where I am the innocent. Everyone else may cower and accept defeat; fold in a corner and take whatever the accusation is being given.  But within the first 30 seconds I have masterminded a slew of witty quips of character assasination or decided that I will slash the tires of their 2013 Lime Green Ford Focus sedan in a fit of rage with the switchblade I forgot to put in my purse this morning.

Now, this is just me?  You may not think as violently or angrily as I do.  Thankfully all those scenarios only play out and receive life in my very vivid and strange imagination.  Normally I'm non-confrontational; passive aggressive even. I rarely make a fuss. I go with the flow.  This helps to make me extremely likeable.  People know that I will pretty much not make noise about alot of these. Does this make me a pushover in some respects? Absolutley!

But the point I think I'm making is... Going with the flow is not agreement but my silence is consent.  So my actions are not genuine. I'm not true to myself or others when I behave this way; Even if it is to keep the peace.  I struggle with this because there is a chink in my armour. I'm no longer "Jessica Princess of Integrity!" (cue viking music, suspicious wind blowing up my short leather flap skirt and a cleavage bearing leather studded ,yet rugged top).

Ehhh. I'll continue to work on it.

What I Want To Say

People have this idea of me ... That I suppose I'm somewhat responsible for. Above reproach and squeaky clean in deed. Never caught with my hand in the cookie jar. The operative word is "caught". So this means at some point in my life I've errored.

Bc I mess up royally at frequent unplanned intervals my eye now becomes keen to the majority of forthcoming doom.  Tonight as I write I just want to dump all of the garbage! Who needs a psychaitrist when I have a blog?! Hello!

So, here is a list things I want to say tonight.

ahem... let us begin

1.  bad breath makes my skin crawl.
2.  pork is not the other white meat. (i say this bc bacon is red. o_O)
3.  I don't ever, ever need an explanation as why your breath smells the way that it does 10 minutes after you brush your teeth (see #1)
4. I wanto be in love.
5.  I don't need anyone rewind me that I'm fat. (If we're ever in a shouting match and you deide you want the first words you to be "you fat..." your mother and her personal attributes and lifestyle choices will critiqued in a very un-Christ like way).

Whar would you like say?

My Invisible Life

Continuing with my ever-evolving rant of self obssession I examine this meager existence that I currently possess.  I float through my day.  I go through the motions and I ponder "am I really seen"? Is my contribution to this world more than just being alive, occupying a seat at my 9-5 and being somebody's mother.  When I enter a room is my presence commanding?  When I get a mind to I can show out.  When I'm feeling real "extra" I boast that the party doesn't start until I walk in the room.  Those are on my good days.   Other times I can be socially awkward.  Even in writing this blog fright grips my soul because if I share my thoughts than people will see me! Hear me even... And they may not like what they hear.  "People" whoever these elusive beings might be not like what I have to say.

And then there are men. But that is another story for anothwer time. It's really not so bad. ;)

When do you feel invisible... if ever?

Afraid of Continuing to Fear

According to dictionary.com the definition of fear is as follows....

fear

   /fɪər/ Show Spelled[feer] Show IPA

noun

1.

a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. Synonyms: foreboding, apprehension, consternation, dismay, dread, terror, fright, panic, horror, trepidation, qualm. Antonyms: courage, security, calm, intrepidity.

All of the emotions shown above do not directly or even remotely resemble the actual fears that I carry.  It causes me to seriously analyze why I fear.  "Whether the threat is real or imagined" jumps out at me for some reason.  I think public opinion is my greatest nemesis.  I constantly articulate my dreams, aspirations, wishes and hopes. But fear always dominates. That dark shadow hulking in the corner. Lurking. Waiting for me to feel the cool of the doorknob in the palm of my hand and then it begins to squeeze. Not just my heart, but my mind races down a path with no finish line. There will always be something that is beyond my control. Someone will always disapprove. Money. Time. My health. My child. My age. Global warming. Obama's "mom jeans". The price of a Nicki Minaj lacefront.  All things that I allow to distract me from me.  I desire to wake up one day no longer afraid.  I see what I miss out on.  The freedom to be who I am supposed to be.

So, let's rewind. My foreboding, apprehension, consternation, dismay, dread, terror, fright, panic, horror, trepidation and qualms inhibit what I should have?   So, I've been being stupid this whole time?Which is courage, security, calm and intrepidity!

Living at my fullest potential.  Being who God intended.  Not some fallacy of the good girl I portray. Me! All that I am currently are too many things to name. But I am making a decision to trust myself above all others.

I'm afraid of continuing to fear.