an inspiration to many, but a 'failure' to one. so many look up to me while i frown upon myself. i'm never good enough for myself while my advice is good enough to get folks up and out of their seat, the irony huh?
the optimism i offer most seems to hide from shame when I need a little bit of it for myself.
but where did this all come from? why won't it go away? when will i be 'ready' to accept ALL of my good?...
limbo has become second nature to me but no matter how much i pray , cry and affirm, i always seem to come back right here, to a cozy corner in the living room of life with my cozy armchair, my fuzzy socks and my warm blanket, too afraid to brave the cold that awaits us all in the world.
maybe one day i'll garner up enough courage to start and finish my proposal, or take that one last set of exams. or maybe i'll even be brave enough to stand in front of a class, not an academic one, but a yoga one, and TEACH! who knows if i can even surrender and accept ALL of the love i receive from my mami, sister, friends and my partner. but for now i'll keep 'fighting' and worrying and reminding myself that it's never enough, i'm lazy and will not meet the deadline. i'll stay in fuzzy socks, even if it's 99 degrees out, who cares? =p
from my soul to yours
ache
Friday, July 23, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
it's 10:40pm, easter sunday and I'm still up. although i have a HUGE day mañana: my 'closer' by goapele alarm tune will go off at exactly 6:40- i'm still up...why do you ask? because my extremely dominican neighbors felt as if christ's resurrection was way more than enough reason to celebrate and blast their sound system until 10:41pm on a sunday evening. between the acordian, güira, and tambor miguelina grits her teeth, exhales (in that passive aggressive kinda way) and rolls her eyes. why?!?! why do WE insist on listening to our music wayyy past the healthy level? past the respectful one as well? and it's not only dominicans- my trini neighbors across the way, my former african-american neighbors in new lots as well...why? not only is it dangerous for our hearing but it's also kinda rude if you ask me. who told you i want to listen to your güiri güiri or your bunké bunké (the sounds my family makes whenever they mock 'english' music)? it's 10:44pm, sunday evening and a 'special' one at that, it's the sunday evening before a lot of folks go back to work after a week-long vaca. 'smart' folks try to be in bed by now, so that the wrestling match between your body and the covers tomorrow morning doesn't leave you feeling like rick flair and rowdy rowdy piper layed a 'the rock' smack down on you (d.c. '09) ;)...
but does this make me bougie in any way? does the fact that el torito, machel montana, or biggie's voices breaking in through my window, sitting on my bed like an uninvited (annoying) guest makes me wanna beat somebody's ass make me less dominican, or caribbean or from bk?
am i not dominican enough because i don't believe that a baby's birthday party should involve a 6-speaker sound system, contracted dj, 3 gallons of johnnie and a reception that starts at 8pm? or because i refuse to scream across the table during a mother's day dinner because my cousin's husband decided he wanted to show off his brand new sound system (which is almost always more tweeter than anything else)?
my tolerance for this type of s#$# is just slowly eroding. maybe it's my educational level, my travel's around the world or the slight increase in income...or maybe my behind is just getting old..not sure, but it's 10:56pm and tito swing is slowly breaking in through my window, lemme call the cops on this m$#$#@#$@#!!!
just being honest mi gente...
but does this make me bougie in any way? does the fact that el torito, machel montana, or biggie's voices breaking in through my window, sitting on my bed like an uninvited (annoying) guest makes me wanna beat somebody's ass make me less dominican, or caribbean or from bk?
am i not dominican enough because i don't believe that a baby's birthday party should involve a 6-speaker sound system, contracted dj, 3 gallons of johnnie and a reception that starts at 8pm? or because i refuse to scream across the table during a mother's day dinner because my cousin's husband decided he wanted to show off his brand new sound system (which is almost always more tweeter than anything else)?
my tolerance for this type of s#$# is just slowly eroding. maybe it's my educational level, my travel's around the world or the slight increase in income...or maybe my behind is just getting old..not sure, but it's 10:56pm and tito swing is slowly breaking in through my window, lemme call the cops on this m$#$#@#$@#!!!
just being honest mi gente...
Monday, March 22, 2010
Am I A Poet?
Am I a poet?
I wear dark, pin-stripped pants to work in my flourescent-lit office.
I prepare PowerPoint presentations to present at scholarly conferences and not literary competitions.
I'm surrounded by professors and research analyst and not novelist nor thespians.
My writing doesn't rhyme, I've never written a haiku and it's not even short,so I definitely can't be a poet.
Although my left nostril is pierced, I don't adorn any tattoos (I'm not one of those 'free spirited' poets, I'm wayyy too picky and I get tired of looking at the same thing all day). My hair is curly but it's not as 'strong' as that of poets who lock their passion in every strand of hair and refer to those words when they get a very unusual case of writer's block, which I swear I'm cursed with so I am no poet.
But am I really a poet?
I write for me, from my heart to the heart of my journal. I believe that beauty can be found in any and everything and one on this realm.
Instead of my yoga mat being a plain ole' orange one, it becomes my deserted island, my safe haven where I only reside, I make and 'bend' the rules.
My walk to my 'poet-less' job in the morning becomes my daily mantra, giving thanks for all that was, is and will be in my life. I give thanks for what I had, who I am, and what shall be. Every step is transformed into a song and dance of gratitude to the most high ( I love rainy days in particular: the tapping on my umbrella transforms my melody into a staccato). They say when you sing you pray twice =).
The scent of coco butter reminds me of summer, that of Maja brand foundation reminds me of my mother and the smell of an industrial dryer whisk me to a crisp fall morning.
So am I a poet?
A poet I am
I'm just a poet
or I just am
I wear dark, pin-stripped pants to work in my flourescent-lit office.
I prepare PowerPoint presentations to present at scholarly conferences and not literary competitions.
I'm surrounded by professors and research analyst and not novelist nor thespians.
My writing doesn't rhyme, I've never written a haiku and it's not even short,so I definitely can't be a poet.
Although my left nostril is pierced, I don't adorn any tattoos (I'm not one of those 'free spirited' poets, I'm wayyy too picky and I get tired of looking at the same thing all day). My hair is curly but it's not as 'strong' as that of poets who lock their passion in every strand of hair and refer to those words when they get a very unusual case of writer's block, which I swear I'm cursed with so I am no poet.
But am I really a poet?
I write for me, from my heart to the heart of my journal. I believe that beauty can be found in any and everything and one on this realm.
Instead of my yoga mat being a plain ole' orange one, it becomes my deserted island, my safe haven where I only reside, I make and 'bend' the rules.
My walk to my 'poet-less' job in the morning becomes my daily mantra, giving thanks for all that was, is and will be in my life. I give thanks for what I had, who I am, and what shall be. Every step is transformed into a song and dance of gratitude to the most high ( I love rainy days in particular: the tapping on my umbrella transforms my melody into a staccato). They say when you sing you pray twice =).
The scent of coco butter reminds me of summer, that of Maja brand foundation reminds me of my mother and the smell of an industrial dryer whisk me to a crisp fall morning.
So am I a poet?
A poet I am
I'm just a poet
or I just am
Thursday, February 25, 2010
outgrowing my veils
growing in place (the tentative title of this entry...we'll see where this goes by the time i finish)...
this piece was written earlier this year. it's been sitting in my unpublished folder and i just found the courage to publish and share it.
enjoy!
thursday evening, a snowy, slushy, i wanna stay in my sweat pants, messy hair and oversized socks day: thank you most high for days like these, days of nothingness but filled with so much. so much gratitude and peace and just stillness.
i woke up this morning with the urge to write, not sure about what, or why, but i just felt like writing. i even almost started that book i know i'll someday write, but then i saw the nutella and the breadsticks and i turned to them and moved my bookwriting to the bottom of my list: sometimes it's my academic writing, at times my computer, today the nutella.
i've been feeling a bit anxious lately, i just feel like nothing is never enough according to me (or is that my ego?), the work that i do, the love that i get, time etc.. things can always be better, colder, hotter, or faster, perfect example: i was on the 4 train on my way from work to visit my beautiful godson and i felt like that train couldn't go faster, i was looking up at the computerized map and clock (cure and curse!) and counting the stops, checking the time (annoyed when the 'next stop is...' message interfered with my paranoia and didn't allow me to check the same time i had checked 16 seconds ago). i really had to fall back, breathe and just BE in the moment. as cliche and cheesy as this sounds, it's the truth, i couldn't control neither the time of day, nor the speed of the train so i had to just BE. we are always doing and not being.
here's an example of how i'm always 'doing' and not 'being'...
i'm a constant complainer (part of doing, i'm always doing: yapping, nagging, sassying) i got sumthin' to say about sumthin' all the time. and although it's a trait i do appreciate it's something, like everything else in life, that i'm trying to balance out. it took me 28 years of life to realize just how much ENERGY i exert when i complain, when i want to argue, when i want to fight. this is energy i can be using to elevate the human consciousness by writing a book ;), finishing my degree, spending quality time with my man in peace, no nagging. don't get me wrong i don't go out there looking for things to b#$# about (or maybe i do, but that's just another entry) my complaining is warranted (people are as#$holes sometimes!!) but it's just not justifiable nor is it healthy.
i love the fighter in me, the fyah in my belly but that heat can come at a price.
the womyn in my family are tough, capital T tough (mind you my mom and all of my aunts are 5'1 and shorter!!) but tough nonetheless. they run their houses, they run their children (even after adults) and RAN their relationships... you see, ALL of my aunts (and my mama) are single-instead of purifying as a balanced fire does naturally, their fire burned their unions down to a crisp. now sistahs don't go throwing your hands up thinking i just set our movement back 30 years or that i'm trying to 'blame' women for the demise of our relationships: wrong!!! i'm just shedding light on an aspect of my relationship that I have control over, as opposed to trying to control everything up under the sun (the uncontrollable) while neglecting the one thing I do have control over: me! there are always two sides to one story, and i'm just telling you my side, trying to understand me through me, not through anyone else.
i would like to get down to the root of this fiestiness, why do we always have to be right? or tough? why can't we just let sh#$# go?!? i can't let s## go to save my life, ESPECIALLY if the s#$# is done by a man, ESPECIALLY if it's a man i'm 'in love' with. maybe it's because i don't want to look stupid, or don't want to come off as a punk, or that someone is taking advantage of me, i don't know! are these still remnants of our time of indentured servitude and/or slavery? is this distrust that we NEEDED back then still alive today, causing black/brown love to be soo difficult? i'm not sure but i am sure that i'm always ready to argue, to complain, to 'tell you about yo'self' and i'm just writing today to let my ego know that i'm getting tired and to kindly ask her to retract her nails, put them back in her fingers, unclenched my teeth and lips (one of the few places i store my anger, my right shoulder and hips being the others) and just let it roll off your shoulders.
i was taught that i should never trust a man, don't tell him everything, don't tell him how much money you really have, don't introduce him to your friends because they will 'take him' from you, don't cry in front of a man or he will not take you serious (i must be the laughing stock of any man i've loved then!! lol), don't talk about your period with him, a man is never yours he belongs to the streets. my goodness!!! is this the same person who i am to fall in love with, marry, have babies with, be FRIENDS with?!
this distrust has led me and many like me to b## and nag and complain and to be tough, in all the wrong ways!!
i'm afraid that if we continue to sweat the small stuff and nag about every little thing, by the time the real issues come around it's like we're crying wolf.
i'm working on a love that is mutual, unconditional, peaceful and happy and the older i get the more and more i realize only I can change that, only I can attract that into my life by working on me first and foremost, by remembering that not even our 5 fingers aren't equal nor perfect, let alone an entire human being. i have to learn to forgive myself and my humanness in order to do the same for those i love.
so much beauty in our universe, but we mask it, complaining being my veil...
outgrowing my veils...that's what i'll call this entry.
thanks for reading
this piece was written earlier this year. it's been sitting in my unpublished folder and i just found the courage to publish and share it.
enjoy!
thursday evening, a snowy, slushy, i wanna stay in my sweat pants, messy hair and oversized socks day: thank you most high for days like these, days of nothingness but filled with so much. so much gratitude and peace and just stillness.
i woke up this morning with the urge to write, not sure about what, or why, but i just felt like writing. i even almost started that book i know i'll someday write, but then i saw the nutella and the breadsticks and i turned to them and moved my bookwriting to the bottom of my list: sometimes it's my academic writing, at times my computer, today the nutella.
i've been feeling a bit anxious lately, i just feel like nothing is never enough according to me (or is that my ego?), the work that i do, the love that i get, time etc.. things can always be better, colder, hotter, or faster, perfect example: i was on the 4 train on my way from work to visit my beautiful godson and i felt like that train couldn't go faster, i was looking up at the computerized map and clock (cure and curse!) and counting the stops, checking the time (annoyed when the 'next stop is...' message interfered with my paranoia and didn't allow me to check the same time i had checked 16 seconds ago). i really had to fall back, breathe and just BE in the moment. as cliche and cheesy as this sounds, it's the truth, i couldn't control neither the time of day, nor the speed of the train so i had to just BE. we are always doing and not being.
here's an example of how i'm always 'doing' and not 'being'...
i'm a constant complainer (part of doing, i'm always doing: yapping, nagging, sassying) i got sumthin' to say about sumthin' all the time. and although it's a trait i do appreciate it's something, like everything else in life, that i'm trying to balance out. it took me 28 years of life to realize just how much ENERGY i exert when i complain, when i want to argue, when i want to fight. this is energy i can be using to elevate the human consciousness by writing a book ;), finishing my degree, spending quality time with my man in peace, no nagging. don't get me wrong i don't go out there looking for things to b#$# about (or maybe i do, but that's just another entry) my complaining is warranted (people are as#$holes sometimes!!) but it's just not justifiable nor is it healthy.
i love the fighter in me, the fyah in my belly but that heat can come at a price.
the womyn in my family are tough, capital T tough (mind you my mom and all of my aunts are 5'1 and shorter!!) but tough nonetheless. they run their houses, they run their children (even after adults) and RAN their relationships... you see, ALL of my aunts (and my mama) are single-instead of purifying as a balanced fire does naturally, their fire burned their unions down to a crisp. now sistahs don't go throwing your hands up thinking i just set our movement back 30 years or that i'm trying to 'blame' women for the demise of our relationships: wrong!!! i'm just shedding light on an aspect of my relationship that I have control over, as opposed to trying to control everything up under the sun (the uncontrollable) while neglecting the one thing I do have control over: me! there are always two sides to one story, and i'm just telling you my side, trying to understand me through me, not through anyone else.
i would like to get down to the root of this fiestiness, why do we always have to be right? or tough? why can't we just let sh#$# go?!? i can't let s## go to save my life, ESPECIALLY if the s#$# is done by a man, ESPECIALLY if it's a man i'm 'in love' with. maybe it's because i don't want to look stupid, or don't want to come off as a punk, or that someone is taking advantage of me, i don't know! are these still remnants of our time of indentured servitude and/or slavery? is this distrust that we NEEDED back then still alive today, causing black/brown love to be soo difficult? i'm not sure but i am sure that i'm always ready to argue, to complain, to 'tell you about yo'self' and i'm just writing today to let my ego know that i'm getting tired and to kindly ask her to retract her nails, put them back in her fingers, unclenched my teeth and lips (one of the few places i store my anger, my right shoulder and hips being the others) and just let it roll off your shoulders.
i was taught that i should never trust a man, don't tell him everything, don't tell him how much money you really have, don't introduce him to your friends because they will 'take him' from you, don't cry in front of a man or he will not take you serious (i must be the laughing stock of any man i've loved then!! lol), don't talk about your period with him, a man is never yours he belongs to the streets. my goodness!!! is this the same person who i am to fall in love with, marry, have babies with, be FRIENDS with?!
this distrust has led me and many like me to b## and nag and complain and to be tough, in all the wrong ways!!
i'm afraid that if we continue to sweat the small stuff and nag about every little thing, by the time the real issues come around it's like we're crying wolf.
i'm working on a love that is mutual, unconditional, peaceful and happy and the older i get the more and more i realize only I can change that, only I can attract that into my life by working on me first and foremost, by remembering that not even our 5 fingers aren't equal nor perfect, let alone an entire human being. i have to learn to forgive myself and my humanness in order to do the same for those i love.
so much beauty in our universe, but we mask it, complaining being my veil...
outgrowing my veils...that's what i'll call this entry.
thanks for reading
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