The fish may rot from the head, but when the volcano erupts, it does not start at the top.
It has been quite some time now since I have posted on the social media giant. My business pages to see me at least once a week. The trolling and reading that I once did has all but vanished. Out of over 400 friends, there were a grand total of three that said something to me about it. One was a phone call. This sends a strong message to me. What are we doing as a society to actually have a true community?
After the alligator incident at Walt Disney, an angry feeling took over me. I felt as if Facebook was a monstrous machine. Last year, Rachel was all the rage. Between the gorilla and the alligator and then Orlando, (RIP), the ongoing rampage of news was entirely too much for me to take. My business pages were set to redirect people to my phone number and email address. I logged out and deleted all of the FB apps from my phone. Where is the Zika virus? There are still homeless people on the street, and new HIV infections daily. For some strange reason, I do not hear about these issues anymore. Is it because they no longer exist or is it because they are no longer deemed newsworthy? Which entity is responsible for making the decision about what is stuffed down our throats?
It was an interesting Friday evening. My bed held me captive. Dinner was in the fridge, and night fall could not descend upon me fast enough. The patio cleaning was canceled so that I could attend a party. I did not plan to stay because tired was a beginning adjective for me. The shower greeted me with hot water sent by God, and a stylish outfit soon followed. It was a no make up no fuss night, but I still looked presentable.
The music was loud. The lights were in different colors. The dancing was outlandish, and the wine was dwindling. People were letting their hair down and getting into the groove. My eyes blinked as my hands rummaged through what was left of the olive platter. A bottle of cold water quenched my thirst. Once my uterus began to have a silent conversation with me, it was time for me to go. After bidding my farewells, I was a flash through the front door. Unbeknown to me, a real live shadow was behind me.
She seemed very desperate. She was wondering if she could get a ride to a gas station approximately ten minutes away. As my hands searched for my keys, I heard my voice say let’s walk to my car and talk. As her story unfolded, it was apparent that life was not at its peak for her. Why this very evening was an extreme low, and the party was simply a moment or two for her to get away. The ride was her journey back to her gruesome reality. She professed her need for God. I looked at her and said continue to pray. God will listen. Just keep praying. She thanked me profusely, and my car took me home.
As I sat in my kitchen looking at my pink candy apple, many things went through my mind. She came after me for a particular reason. My presence just played a part in something that was unknown to me. It was timely, and subtle. You never know why you are in a certain place at a certain time. You are just there.
There were personal reasons for me not to attend this event. It is not in my nature to be remotely curious about anything political and social reform is not something that tickles my fancy. My world is filled with spirit and the arts; reality is a bit cold and harsh for a mellow water sign such as myself. However, the idea of such a force being in my backyard was too much for me to avoid. I wanted to attend with an open mind and learn something about the causes which have consumed this woman’s life. Her documentary was so good that I watched it twice.
Dr. Angela Davis mentioned many noteworthy points. She said the system can’t be fixed and needs to be abolished entirely. That is how I feel about education, but isn’t education a part of the system? Many teachers are fed up with notion of being involved in a career where they have no say yet sweat and bleed in the trenches.
The notion of community was broached. Social Media has its strong grip on the current generation but people are not aware of the struggles that the person next door is facing. How can we truly expect to take our agenda to international levels when we are lacking a proper foundation? We are dividid and united at the same time. As a personal reflection, I want to travel to distant lands but have yet to attend a Home Owner’s Meeting….
The fervor of the room was simply amazing. Many people were lost in nostalgia. It was a new energy for me. The fist pumping and various shouts. It was simply a sight to behold and a passion inciting sensation. The revolution lives.
My one of a kind designer dress held my body in green and red. The glass of wine was delicious. The entertainment was rather enjoyable, and the company was great. Instead of performing on a Saturday night in December, I did something outrageous; I attended an event as a guest and enjoyed myself. Something happened to me this evening.
The musician was a jazz pianist. As the chord progression rang familiar to me, the songs were easy to recognize. They were songs that my father enjoyed playing himself. The vocalist began singing, and it was obvious that her repertoire spoke to yesteryear. The honorees for the evening were names that I heard before from my father’s mouth. Before I knew it, the sight of him flailing about in the coma resurfaced. The familiar faces of the people whom were complete strangers milled all around. It was like being in a world that was not far from the one person that will never appear again. A twinge of sadness gripped me and just as quickly, it was brushed away. It was an interesting moment to experience during a gala affair.
Sometimes, your life seems to dip into a swirling abyss. All you can do is hope for the best while expecting the next whirlpool. Insomnia seems to be ruining my life at the moment. Focusing on anything is impossible, and people simply irritate me by existing. There is never enough time to do anything, and mornings are my worst enemy. There is no energy to supply anything. Ambition, drive, passion, and multi-tasking are all dead. Small things become large things and the sense of failure begins to creep in. It could really make a girl pout.
After an involved weekend, I ventured to an event to learn more about the intimate side of relationships. Upon arrival, a chair received me. Upon my first survey of the room, everyone looked so very sheik and together. However, the Mistress of Ceremonies was certainly a sight to behold. She looked so very pulled together. I even mentioned to her that she looked like the perfect version of someone that has everything going for her. A big happy smile with a gorgeous outfit. It made me rejoice in the middle of my self criticism. She strutted around the room taking questions and inserting spurts of enthusiasm. It was quite charming. As simple as you take it, it really made me think about myself.
There are some changes that need to take place in order for me to maintain myself. While my womb detox is in the process as we speak, my diet is what put it in jeopardy to begin with. My view of food does not see it as fuel for life; I enjoy eating because it tastes good. My favorite meal is dessert. Anything sweet is my cup of tea. This is not in my best interest given that Diabetes runs in my family. My desire to cook is also going with the wind. I want to hire a food delivery service for a little while. Healthy meals would be delivered to my door, and I could stop worrying about providing myself with three meals a day.
Self-employment sits on my mind. Waking up first thing in the morning does not suit me at all. The sun needs to be in the sky for a few hours before my body should be required to leave my bed. Working on my own agenda sounds like a gem, and the possibility of an assistant causes me to grin. Imagining myself as a consultant of sorts intrigues me.
There is no rhyme or reason to the way that I dress. It is not hip, and it is not an outfit that stops traffic. Conservative, hippie, and all black come to mind when thinking about how my attire embraces me. My wardrobe should express more about who I am overall. Sometimes, I try to attach a goal to my outfit. What is the desire result from this combination of fabric? There are other aspects that are missing. How does one bring such things forward? Yes, the consideration of a stylist has been brought to the table where it still remains.
All of these things ran around my mind after settling into the chair. The Mistress of Ceremonies continued her mission of interacting with people while they responded with comments to the questions on the floor. My wine vanished as I blinked.
The first time I ever saw Spoken Word Poetry was on HBO in 2000. The center stage was taken by the Punany Poet herself, Jessica Holter. After seeing and performing in a few shows open mics in Miai, I felt myself rather at home as a captive audience member in the local poetry community. After my friend and well known poet Will Bell was murdered, I vanished from all poetic activity. There was no interest or desire to even lurk in a dark corner to remain captivated by a story as it unfolded in a secy atmosphere surrounded by complete strangers. This year seems to be my poetic re-entry time. Between Thou Art Woman and Girl Talk, poetry has surrounded me once again. Let us not forget how I met the delightful Crystal Chanel the MOC at ArtServe. Poetry was presented there as well and now it seems as if there is a limerick waiting for me every week. Familiar faces now appear at my new haunts. Another favorite of mine, Red Writing Hood has become a regular at my family functions. It is wonderful to see different poets and experience different literary flavors. Some words tickle while others strike a chord. I am happy to say that everything has come full circle and it was wonderful to be back where it all started….admiring my favorite poet, Jessica Holter.
Today, I returned to my alma mater for professional development. Being on the campus was surreal. There are so many new buildings that I almost got lost. I saw my old haunts and remembered the afternoons of just being around other musicians. The collegiate life looked rather attractive this morning, and it hit me that I appreciated it more now than when I was there. The opportunity to study exactly what you want without the demands of an adult life sounds rather escapist. It made me smile. The sculptures were grand and the traffic medium to heavy.
Something else crossed my mind. I was asked out a grand total of two times in college. Does that number seem a bit low to you? The dating process unfolded like blueprints. Did dating happen in college? No, not really. In retrospect, there was no concept of how to involve myself in romantic endeavors. The only guidelines that I was aware of were do not have sex and do not get pregnant. Those were the only two things that were drilled into me about the whole thing my entire life. There was a serious relationship that blossomed prior to graduation but it soon came crashing to the ground as my first year working came to an end.
It has been a busy October. Between being social and performing, Lady has been quite the mover and shaker. My mother’s birthday literally appeared overnight. What was I going to do? It was a critical week for her and many people wanted to be there to support her. How was I going to bring it all together? Simple. I assembled a mini dream team and went to work. First, a call went in to the poetess that graced our last family function. I told her that I had to have her back for another event and here it was. Second, a special dessert was in order. The cake designer was available to make a very special vintage treat featuring my mother’s face.
My new dress was the perfect selection for the fall night festivities. Everyone gathered at the Falls inside Brio to celebrate my mother’s birthday. As everyone settled in, bread arrived at the table. Chatter soon began as I nervously checked my phone to see that the poet had arrived in the parking lot and would soon be making her grand entrance. I did not tell my mother about her appearance or the cake. Once she emerged from her hiding place we approached my mother together. A wide smile came over my mom’s face as she hugged the talent that brought so much joy only months ago. It was not long before she delivered three touching poems much to the delight of our guests.
By the time dessert was served, each person was giving a personal testimony regarding the special time that we were having. When my turn came to speak, I felt the presence of my father. It was nice to have him around for the evening. It has often been my thought that I had to take care of his widow in his physical absence. The dinner was yet another goal that was achieved in this line of thinking. More than one guest told me how much they enjoyed the dinner. It was a lovely evening. My mother smiled all night long.