Saturday, August 30, 2008

Down Again

and I can't shake it. Lovebabz took a hiatus recently cuz she was feeling poorly... and I had encouraged her to write, to work through it. But now it's getting hard for me...

I try to shake it but I'm not shaking it.

I know it's a combination of things, and not any one particular thing.

But at the moment I don't feel like writing anything, cuz I don't really have anything to say.

Friday, August 29, 2008


Freakin' wow.

I don't care what your politics are or what you believe... but this was one of the biggest nights in American History. Declaration-of-Independence big. Emancipation big. I-Have-A-Dream big. I wonder what MLK would have said... I wonder what Brother Malcolm would have said. I wonder if Lincoln would ever have imagined this. Or my great-great-great grandfather Peter G. Morgan, who served in the Virginia House of Representatives during Reconstruction. Or great-great-grandma Josephine or even Nana Jessie. My Grandpa Truman.

How friggin' cool. I made MMB (who's spending the night... she made her acting debut today at a Shakespeare program the Fat Lady put her on to... and she was good!) and the Sun watch Obama's speech on C-Span. I told them when they are grown and have children they can say they watched it...

It does matter if he wins... it matters a lot. But regardless, history was made. Big History.

(hey, is that a long-haired boy over there in the bottom left of the picture???
and that Sasha is a pip! Definitely her father's child...)

(Pictures from

Can you just fathom this? I saw history today... and good history for a change.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

My Upstairs Neighbor Left for a Visit Home

...the other day, home to South Africa where she was born. She is not Afrikaner, but she is "white", the daughter of a White South African mother and an English father.

Growing up, her family had "black" servants (and her flat accent makes the word sound so very strange) but according to her view they were considered part of the family. She knew about apartheid, but was pretty much sheltered from the horrors of it by virtue of her birth and the chance of her skin color. Her father--an alcoholic and probably manic-depressive--was abusive, but only to her mother and brother. Her mother finally left him, and a few years later her father killed himself. Not too much long after that, UN met the love of her life, Mr. Kip, and came to America. Much much later, UN's mother came over here as well; South Africa's health care system was failing her.

When I first moved in to this apartment, I didn't have much to do with UN, Mr. Kip, or UN's mom. They mostly kept to themselves and anyhow SD decided he didn't like them and so for a long time I made no effort to befriend them.

Then one night, somewhere during the beginning of the 6-year war with SD, my three-year old Sun had a coughing fit. Nothing I tried would make him stop... not water, not juice, not cough syrup. I finally realized that he was stressed (something had happened that day but I can't remember what it was), and seeing my poor little one hacking away, stress oozing from every pore of his body, sent my own blood pressure sky-high. My hands were shaking. Out of desperation, I knocked on UN's door and asked her if she would please, put me and the Sun in her car and just drive. Anywhere. We needed to get out of the house. It was about 8PM, and I knew she worked, but I was desperate. I don't remember why it was I didn't call Shoefly, but I also knew the Professor was too far away and I needed to get out of the house RIGHT THEN. She looked at me, and my distress must have been evident cuz she went and got her keys.

She drove us around for probably two hours, just talking gently; me sitting in the back seat holding my baby until his coughs came further and further apart and then finally fell asleep. She drove us home. And we have been friends ever since.

Mr. Kip was always ready with a story and a laugh, and UN was always ready to help, but UN's mom never said much of anything though she was very cordial. But when she discovered her son--UN's brother who still lived home in South Africa, was now dating a "Black" woman, we all realized with some surprise that she didn't at all approve. And she was none too happy when Brother and his girlfriend, who he subsequently married, came to visit.

I fell in love with Primrose. She was a child during apartheid, her father jailed for most of her life for working with Mandela. When she was a young teen, apartheid was dismantled. And she described how everyone took advantage of the dismantling and formed the new government... people went to college, got jobs, changed their country. She herself became a police officer. When asked why, after witnessing police brutality in her own home as the South African police beat and dragged her father out of the home, she answered "I hated apartheid, not the law".

South Africa is not without its problems... as a female officer (now a captain) she described horrifying rapes--especially of children--in staggering numbers. Murders and suicides. But overall... hope. A determination by everyone in her country to overcome the legacy of the past and move forward together. In 1994, four years after the end of apartheid, Nelson Mandela became that country's first Black President.

143 years ago, my great-great grandmother Josephine, the bi-racial daughter of the Confederate colonel Francis Bartow and his 14 year old slave girl Ouidette Badu described hearing the clattering of bayonet spikes against the white picket fences of Perry Street where she lived in Savannah. The soldiers dragging them informed them she was no longer a slave. She was 16. She relayed her memory to her daughter, my father's grandmother, who relayed it to my father, who relayed it to me.

Almost 100 years from that date Martin Luther King stood up and made his now famous "I Have a Dream" speech, as he and thousands marched on Washington to protest the treatment of African Americans in this country.

And today, 45 years later to the date from Dr. King's speech and 143 years after my great-great-grandmother's "emancipation", a man of African descent accepts the nomination for President of the United States.

No doubt... it's amazing. I never dreamed I 'd see it in my lifetime. I never thought he'd make it this far. I'm impressed that he figured out how to win the numbers game... the "Electoral College" game and snatched the prize out underneath the Clinton machine.

And I'm proud as hell. I'm proud my kid and my nieces get to see this. In fact, we're all watching C-Span even as I write this. It's history in the making. But I'm saddened by those stalwarts who refuse to see how wonderful this is, how long overdue this is. Because we still haven't actually had a "hued" man--or woman--become leader of this country.

They don't like Obama's polices, they say. They don't trust him, they say. He's too young. He's a secret Muslim. He's unpatriotic, they say. And none of this has anything to do with his race. (Well.. for some. Some openly refuse to vote for a "Black" man.)

Bullshit. It has everything to do with his race. If you didn't like his polices and he were white, or Christian, his skin color or his religion wouldn't be mentioned. And John F. Kennedy was younger. And how can he be a secret Muslim yet be a militant black Christian? And simply because he won't cover his heart during the National Anthem or wear a flag on his lapel he's unpatriotic? Yet he has chosen to endure the intense scrutiny running for President entails, jeopardizing his life and the lives of those he loves because he doesn't believe in this country? What would be his motive then?

As for his policies... I can't say I understand it all. I'm not political. I still say policies aren't really made by the President and are dictated by rich oil and insurance companies. But suppose the President really does make policies... can they be any worse than what we've got now? If they suck, how much worse can it possibly get in four years than it is now? Will we go to war? Oh, wait... we're already at war. Will people lose their homes and jobs? Oh, wait... people have already lost jobs and homes in record numbers. Will people become hopeless and disillusioned? Aren't we already called the Prozac nation?

I hope the last holdouts heed Hillary's words the other night, and question why they supported her in the first place. Was it her? Or was it because they wanted to change the country? And if you answer the former are you really doing her justice?

I hope Obama wins the election because I believe we need something new in this country. We need to have the audacity to hope, to believe in change, to believe in America as it should be. The way it was intended... even though those original words weren't meant for me or my brown and red ancestors when they were originally written. We've adopted them as our own, because America is our country; we were born here, we lived and worked here, fought in her wars, built her cities and farmed her fields. We died and are buried here. And it's time for those words to apply to us. For us to own them. After this... whatever happens it's all good. But we need this change. We need a new Hope.

Monday, August 25, 2008

I've Been Ignoring The Political

bullshit for a long while now, because I just got tired of shouting in the wind.

I can't say I'm thrilled with Joe Biden as a Veep, but what the hell... John Edwards turned out to be skeezy as all get out, and Hillary was such a nasty combative bitch-in-a-pantsuit that I would have felt Obama gave up his manhood if he took her as Veep (but I think she'll make one hell of a replacement for Condi). So I'm in support of ObamaBiden though it's mighty hard to say that three times fast.

However.... every so often things piss me the fuck off, and since there's no one to calm the voices (hey, and maybe that's not such a bad thing after all) and my rages, I'ma let you all know what it was:

And since I should be sleeping, I'ma post something else so I can just throw up my hands and let it rest until such time as I gather my slumbering voices, rile them the fuck up and get to spewin'...

And then I'ma say one last thing...

With shit like the first video floating around, I'm going to reiterate my belief that we are long overdue for a brown president. Just so people who create videos like that can squirm for 4 years. Compared to 400 years of squirming, that's no time at all...

Sunday, August 24, 2008

The Next Day...

and I've a ton of stuff to do, but spent most of last night and this morning posting pictures. 536 I took... and some of them are pretty good. Do the Flickr slideshows cuz they go pretty fast. But there's a lot of pictures....

Still sad... still missing something. Professor said she dreamed a dream last night and I want to believe (so very much) but truthfully I'm afraid. I'm at least in a place where I'm not breaking down all the time and I guess it's better for me here right now.

But whatever.

The Pow wow was great. We saw old freinds and talked to new ones. There were too many of us crunched in two rooms (and smaller than we normally get) and it was a little tight. I slept very little. But the rates for the rooms have gone up significantly, and the discount codes that come out are hard to get applied, the way the thing is rigged... so on the whole we did OK. But it was tight.

It's really hard to describe the feeling I get being up at Schemitzun. It's a totally different world, but some things that stick out are

  1. American history is really skewed to make you believe in the myth of it all being about White people and Black people. And it's so foreign to me, because I've always known about the Native part of me... and the Puerto Rican part and the Spanish and the German. Very few of my mother's traceable family were actually slaves (and if they were they weren't for long) and I have such a hard time relating to those stories sometimes. I don't have relatives "Down South". And my father's family has a 100 year history of inter-cultural families. When I go to the pow wows I see people that look like the pictures I have of my family... and I find that whenever I'm scanning the crowd for my mother or sister or Mima, I have to say "Oh wait, that's not Bigbear" or "Oh, that's not sis" because there are so many more people who look like my family; who walk like my family. Whereas when I'm on 'Two-Five boy I can spot my mom from 100 miles away.

  2. Native culture is built on a profound respect for the elders. When you're surrounded for three days by folks who constantly defer to the elders--NOT "seniors"--you find yourself becoming amazed at how badly old people are treated in American culture. How they are looked down on as being "dotty" or "stupid" or "past their prime". Whereas at the Pow wow, when the elders dance you watch them knowing they've been doing this for years... they may not kick their legs up like the young ones do, or jump as high or twirl or jingle... but you watch them for knowledge, for poise, and you are filled with awe. It makes you smile. You watch them at the drums, teaching the young drummers and singers, you watch the elder women with their beautiful blankets and shawls pinning something for a younger woman. And you see the admiration they have in turn, for the ones coming up behind them, continuing tradition. There are no "senior citizens" at the pow wows. There are Elders, and you revere them and honor them and care for them because without them, you wouldn't be here.

  3. no one EVER asks me (or the Professor or Bigbear) at the pow wow "what are you?" or "what nationality is your mother?" They ask "Where are you from?" as in region... and "what's your nation?" And when I reply "Seminole/Cherokee/Nottoway/Blackfoot" they only say "Oh, OK." Not "really? you don't look black" or "no, but what's your heritage?" One woman--a Wampanoag from Martha's Vineyard got into a conversation with Bigbear on the bus up the hill to the grounds. She was telling my mom how her nation never denied who they were, were always there, and were never moved. My mom was telling her how in her family, the Native ancestry was always whispered and never confirmed... and how she was taught to identify as "Black". The woman, Edith, I think her name was, remarked how her nation refused to identify as "Black" because she said "We were who we were. Besides, we don't look 'Black'". Then she looked at Bigbear and said "YOU don't look 'Black'". It was incredulous to her that anyone would ever mistake Bigbear for anything other than Native. It was an interesting moment... and one that made me feel so good for Bigbear because she struggled to place herself for so long...

  4. bullriders are hot. Although I didn't go to the Buckorama this year. The kids did, though.

  5. so are the Eastern Woodland dancers. Minimal clothing and lots of buckskin and feathers is a good look.

And without further ado... a few of my favorite pictures:

This elder reminded me so much of Grandpa... especially his chin.

Seminole mother and dauther.

This dude was hot... his wife thought so too cuz those were all his babies. He also reminded me of someone I know and miss. And he also reminded me of my cousin Tommy on my father's side, who's mom is Mohawk.

This dude was quite full of himself... but he was a good dancer.

These women were awesome. All kinds of beauty.

He was very striking.

Me and the Professor...

...and me and the kids.

This young woman was stunning.

This is one of my favorites.

I'll post a few more of my favorites later... but I need to do some other stuff right now...

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Home Again

and I so don't want to be. I wish I could be at the pow wow forever. I didn't think about any of my problems, and I even managed to keep the emptiness at bay.

But I'm back now and it hit me as soon as I walked in. I hate my apartment. I wish I could keep moving.

I'll write later and post some of my favorite pictures.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Good For The Soul

...pow wow's are. If you're ever feeling really badly about life, you should go to a pow wow. There's something about being connected to the earth, about being connected to all these people who may or may not look like you or each other but knowing there is a common reason for being there...

And there is nothing like standing next to a drum circle. Watching the circle of men (usually) hit that huge drum in unison, the beat close to your own heart beat... a slow, steady beat that crescendos and falls.... feeling the singing.

I stood next to Mystic River, the house drum circle at Foxwoods, as they sang the Native American Flag song... a song dedicated to fallen warriors. It brought tears to my eyes. Several of them have small children, and this years baby sat on his father's lap, bright eyes fascinated. When they stopped playing he cried....

I have pictures, but I'm using the hotel's free wireless which is only available in the lobby... and I forgot my laptop doesn't have a slot that fits my flash card so I have to upload pictures to the laptop later directly from the camera. So pictures tomorrow.

The Sun and I rode up to the Pow Wow (a two and a half hour drive) with Mima and her granddaughter who I'll call Butterfly, cuz she reminds me of one. She's 11 and aspires to be a pow wow dancer, and has danced Intertribal dances (where non-affiliated dancers can participate) at several local pow wows. But this is her first year at Schemitzun, and she was completely overcome. She kept saying when we got here "look at all the dancers!" and I told her "Hon... this is empty. Wait until tomorrow or Saturday... there are SO many people here!"

On the way up, I got to talk to Mima... my big sister my friend... about how I've been feeling. And unlike other non-sympathetic members of my family (who love me, but barrel their way through life rather than sidestep things), Mima was able to help me put things in perspective and I felt much better talking to her than I have in days.

Cuz it's weird. I feel like somebody died. And perhaps it's merely me channeling other people's feelings... but at the same time there is decidedly something missing. And not missing just because it's gone... but missing in the way of "You can't miss what you can't measure". Then one day, you can measure it, and realize what it is you're missing.

One of the overwhelming feelings this past few weeks is complete bewilderment. See, I know I'm crazy. Generally, I'm OK with being crazy because generally I surround myself with people who are accepting of me. In blogging about The Voices over the last year I have come into complete acceptance of them. I'm OK with them. And I know that not everyone is going to be able to understand that. So the ones that do, I appreciate. And the ones that can actually quiet them? Well... like I've told the Fat Lady... she's not allowed to be cellphone-less. Because if the voices are screaming at me I NEED to be able to talk to her because I know she can calm them. Now she's got text messaging which is a wonderful thing for me.

But then I was around someone who actually made them go away. And I realized how very much I need that in my life.

And on top of all that there was a feeling of being complete... and that is another feeling I haven't had in a really really long time. And to have it yanked back really threw me for a loop, and made me wonder if maybe I was just losing my judgment on top of everything else... losing my ability to feel a person out. I KNOW what I felt... how could I have been that wrong?

But then the other day I did one of those stupid "compatibility tests" based on your birthdates, and the results were pretty interesting. Usually I do those things and I try to squeeze in whoever I'm interested in into the good segments to prove to myself that this person would be a good match. But this time, it was eerie... And it's silly... but it gave me a sense of peace because I know what I felt. It was different.

And I realized it may not matter if the person who gave me the that feeling is the person I'll be with for a while.... what matters is that I found what it was I needed. And once you can identify a need, it's MUCH easier to fill it, rather than wandering around aimlessly looking for something you don't really know... It's like going into a store and knowing you need something... but can't remember what the hell it is. So you end up wasting time and money and walk out of the store not knowing what you're missing and get home and go to do the dishes and realize "SHIT!!!! DISH DETERGENT!" Life is much better and the wallet is much safer when you KNOW you're going into the store specifically for dish detergent, and that's what you walk out with.

So at least I know that I need dish detergent. And I'm gonna find it, dammit.


I've already spent more money that I should have... I bought a really cool embroidered shirt and a lot of food, and the the Professor and I wandered the casino and I lost $20 right quick. The slots up here are stingy, compared to the ones in Vegas.

And I love being here at Foxwoods... but it ain't Vegas. Which helped me sort of make up my mind that when I have to fly the Sun out to see his father at Christmas (argh, but I'll bitch about that later) I'm gonna hop on that bus and go hang out with Aunt LV in Vegas. I should probably tell her... but yeah I am... cuz for one thing I can reclaim Vegas on my own terms and won't forever be haunted by memories...

So I guess I am better now. Being here at Schemitzun helps tons. And if any of you all know me in real life, you really ought to get your ass in a car and come up here, and give me a call when you do... Mowgli's sister is here with MoodMagicBarbie and two other friends (the Sun is in pre-pubescent heaven.... lots of beautiful girls walking around in the their jammies and dancing and forgetting that there's a little boy there with big eyes) and tomorrow her family is going to drive up here for the day.

Hella fun.

...and I need to go to bed, now....

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

I Lied

I don't feel better. I mean I did earlier today, but now I don't.

Crushed. Blown to bits.

Not because I didn't know... but because as usual I tried... suspended judgement... had faith. Went with a feeling.

I know the Professor in particular is a little fed up with me. Bigbear thinks I'm moping.

But this one got under my skin in a big way, right from the very beginning. And I went with it. I let go, gave up on controlling the feeling. Didn't hide it. Inside, I felt different. Nene had given me back my heart and with this one... even knowing the nature of the beast I had faith the feeling was mutual and it would work out somehow.

I don't see, at this moment, how my not having barriers did me any good. For five years I kept those barriers in place, and it worked just fine.

I don't let people in cuz it's very very hard to let them out. It hurts every time.

And I am an all-or-nothing chick... I either feel something or I don't. And if I feel it I go all out. Yeah, it's intense, it's crazy. Obviously it doesn't work. But what else do I do? I've been on this earth 43 years and I realize there are some things I can change about me... but there are some others that I don't think I can.

Feeling whatever it is I'm feeling 100% is just what I do. And hurting 100% is what I feel right now... and there is no time formula or method of distracting myself that's going to make me feel any different. I wish I didn't feel this way, I do. I wish that I could turn it off like other people can, but I never could. And I really wish I could figure out when what I'm feeling is ONLY that mental distress thing and not something else. The bane of my existence. My curse.

I moved around so much as a younger kid... there are countless people I've left behind. I know that nothing lasts and so I keep myself to myself, knowing that most of the people I meet... even if it's intense for a minute, will pass through and it's likely in a few years we'll barely see each other or think of each other. But every so often someone comes along that grabs me... and I don't let them go. And when I'm forced to it hurts for a long time. So I try not to let them grab me in the first place. But this one grabbed me, and this time I let go.

It doesn't help that some people are dishonest. I'll give props to Nene... no matter what, he was honest. Whatever I wanted or however I felt, he was always honest, and I was never blindsided. I appreciate that.

We're going to the Pow Wow Thursday. I got that to keep me going... and the Sun... and all the other things in life I must do.

At some point I'll be OK. At some point this won't bother me and I'll look back at this summer not with pain but with some embarrassment... mainly cuz I put my heart on display for the world to see. But right now I feel like shit.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Starting To Feel Better Again

...about life. Not much... still wondering what the hell it's all about, but I'm not falling apart.

And I have no problem admitting it, and don't care what folks say, but alcohol helps.

Saturday night the Professor came with me to see a friend of BigSensei's perform a reggaeton show at a small bar on the Lower East Side. Very odd place to have a reggaeton performance... but the few folk who didn't clear out when the Puerto Ricans ("162 in da HOOOOOOOUSSE!") took over had a good time. The Professor and I got downtown slightly ahead of BigSensei and his entourage (his wife, her sister and a close family friend) but when we met up we discovered we were all hungry. I asked the bouncer if they served food in the place--they didn't, he said. But we could order in.

So we went walking... Chinatown started on the corner we were standing, so we walked up East Broadway looking for open restaurants. The ones that were served things like Congee and beef stomach with turnip, but BigSensei's wife wanted real Chinese food... egg rolls in particular.

We never found any.

But the beauty of New York is that ethnic neighborhoods are all crushed up on each other, especially on the LES, so we turned another corner and ran into pizza, Spanish food, and McDonald's. The Puerto Ricans all ate McDonald's... the Professor and I shared a plate of yellow rice and chicken.

After the show, BigSensei excitedly introduced me to his friend the dj... nice enough looking dude with a shy smile. Eh. But it was flattering to get the Gladeye.

It was still a little early when the group broke up; BigSensei and crew were going to go hang out in the Bronx, but the Professor and I went to Gonzalez y Gonzalez for an hour or so. Neither of us felt like dancing, but the band was great and the dancers were twirling and it was just nice to be there...

The Sun had spent the night with one of his oldest school friends, up in Washington Heights. The family down the street from where he was staying is an elementary school friend of MoodMagicBarbie and was having a birthday barbecue. So that meant MMB was there on that block as well. It's walking distance from the Professor's apartment which meant she wasn't driving. Which meant I made the trek over there from the Rock by bus and train. Wasn't too bad... less time than it takes to get to Yonkers and much the same route.

I hadn't wanted to be around people too much, but the loneliness in the house was killing me, and once I got there I was glad I came. The Sun's friend, Mowgli has one of the nicest families around. MMB has been friends with Mowgli's sister since pre-K, so we've known the family a long time. The parents had been separated for a bit, but are now back together... in love as always, and it was nice to be around. The grown ups all ended up sitting in the little courtyard of the garden apartment, drinking beers and sangria, and doing shots of Hennesey. The kids ran up and down the block between the two apartments, the boys (including TinyOne who had come with his mama the Diva) playing with a basketball, the girls "swanking" and tossing hair.

Afterwards Mowgli's dad drove us home in his wife's convertible. When they had split up two years ago, she had sold her old SUV and bought a snazzy two-seater convertible. The license plate reads "Ciao Papi" or the equivalent and I had the bestest time ribbing him about it. Particularly since he happens to be a really good-looking guy. But he smiled and took the ribbing with humor.

So now we're back to Monday. School is three weeks away for us. Back into a routine... I hate when summer ends but I'll be glad for the normalcy. This summer was just way too intense...

Saturday, August 16, 2008

One Foot In Front of The Other...

is what I'm doing. Dealing with the "right now." I feel like an idiot, but it can't be helped. It's just the way I'm wired. All-or-nothing, and it really sucks. Sucks for me, because I do it to myself, and sucks for other people who get to deal with me.

The TomCat lost a close friend the other day to a stroke--a young guy. It's the second close friend he's lost in three months. I feel so awful for him. And there's all that other stuff he's walking with. So this pretty much means there's no room for me right now, if at all. But I'm praying for him every day... and invite others to send him positive thoughts.

I practiced kata's yesterday in karate... I'm going to go again today. Just trying to put one foot in front of the other.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Ill Winds

...seem to be blowing. I guess that would explain a lot of things. I never commented on the deaths of Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes, within days of each other... two very talented people gone.

But then Wednesday morning, Shoefly called me up to tell me someone on her block--down the street from me--committed suicide. He'd apparently tried to hang himself first, and that didn't work out so well so then he shot himself. Talk about having a bad day... to try twice. And Thursday morning Shoefly called me up to tell me her sister-in-law's younger brother--barely a few years older than myself--died of a heart attack.

And me... well, the story's not done and I don't like telling it until it is, though sometimes it feels more done than other times. But I'm not happy and the past few days have not been good.

Wednesday is kind of a blur except I was working on some stuff and took my laptop downtown to the kids school to continue work and keep the Fat Lady and OneHalf company while they sorted books for the library. Then the Sun and I went to karate, where I got to spar with CrazyPurpleBelt. I gotta say... it feels real good to be able to legally hit someone who's not going to be hurt by it. I just get winded pretty bad... need to get my lungs in shape so I can hang out for two minutes in a ring.

Thursday sucked. So broke as I am, I went down to the city and got my hair done ($27) and my eyebrows done ($18) and met up with the Fat Lady in the process. I am indebted to her as she willingly babysat her crazy geeky friend... hanging out with me and my kid even though she had managed to park her kids in Brooklyn. That's a true friend. After getting our girl on, we went to Sassy Sliders and I had burgers and sweet potato fries (the Sun opted for McDonalds' chicken selects).

Then she decided to drive me home, and the Sun was talking about all the movies he'd seen this summer and how I'd seen none, so we decided then and there we'd see if we could catch"The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor" in the Bronx. And we did! And it was hot! ( Jet Li rocks... I finally got to watch "Fearless" one night*sigh* with the TomCat and it was spectacular.) Special note for folks who care about stuff like this... the closing credits were some of the most beautiful I've ever seen.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

My Favorite Place the world, well, one of them anyway, is Rye Playland. The Fatlady and I had talked about going since it was a little chilly for the beach. I was undecided because of the cash flow... but yesterday morning body parts were raining down over Kathmandu and I really didn't want to sit in the house.

So we went. The Sun of course, was overjoyed... and I think it's one of the few times he's seen his school friends over the summer... certainly since he's been back from L.A.

And this year, he was brave enough to ride the Dragon Coaster with me and Sugar. And loved it so much he rode it twice.

I've got to get a job. But I've decided to look into "Non-traditional employment for women"... something that's not graphic design and maybe I won't take everything so personally.

And as for TomCat, well... something clicked later in the day, and I was all set to walk away. But I dunno... patience is something I struggle with, and faith as well... and a host of baggage and issues... so I'm trying to pace myself. Cuz I'm ever hopeful.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Anybody Can Be Creative

if you know how.

I'm working on developing this logo, or mark, for a "prevention of stroke re-occurrence" group at my former hospital.

I've had mixed feelings about the project... the grant-writer and head of the group is a little conservative and was also a little nervous. When I started out on this thing I kind of figured that the logo was going to end up being conservative. But, the project director started a sub-committee of folk to participate in the logo development (one of whom is my dear Mima's AuntV) and an amazing thing is starting to happen.

Two weeks ago when I met with them (without the project director who was on vacation) I walked in to the meeting feeling a little unprepared. See... I know how I like to work, and the PD was kind of throwing me off my game. He had asked me to re-do sketches, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew I didn't have to... so I didn't--thus the feeling of being unprepared. I told them when I walked in "OK, we're going to run this like a graphic design class" and started at the very beginning. And then I re-presented the sketches I had done, encouraging the group (made up of several community residents, mainly African American but all stroke survivors... probably starting around their late '50's to maybe 70's) to brainstorm words, phrases and feelings about what it meant to be a stroke survivor. Out of many discussions and brainstorming at that last session, we picked 5 of the sketches I'd done to develop further, and I managed to figure out how to shorten their rather long slogan/acronym into a much shorter one.

I haven't felt much like working. It's been a struggle. And all last week and over the weekend I kept trying to force myself to sit down and clean up the 5 directions we'd picked... but nothing was flowing. Finally, Sunday night at like 2AM I got cracking, took a nap, got up and finished all 5, very simply, each in a an 8"X8" square in black and white. I cut all 5 pieces neatly so that they were all the same size, and packed a black mounting board to post them on. Ordinarily I may have mounted each one... but uh, I broke and don't have any more mounting boards. My meeting was yesterday at noon.

I missed the bus off the Rock I'd wanted to take... I can't seem to find any of my traveling portfolios, I was extremely unhappy about life and then on top of everything else I get to the bus stop and the heavens open up and it begins to pour. And I'm inappropriately dressed, cold, and trying to keep the rain from wetting up my Graphis paper tablet and the mounting board. And I thought I'd be late.

But I got there just about on the dot, and presented the five ideas one by one. And a wonderful thing happened... The two more conservative ideas I had didn't fly... and the two more adventurous ideas, sparked by the two quieter folk in the group, suddenly took off. And they even made a suggestion to combine them... which was awesome cuz the minute the suggestion was made I saw it in my head.

I left feeling warm and happy and like I know how to do something in my pathetic little life... cuz otherwise quite honestly I'm suffering.

There are body parts scattered from here to Katmandu.

And I don't even feel like writing about it.

Monday, August 11, 2008

High School Reunions

...can be good for the ego, particularly when a bunch of guys tell you how they always liked you but were too scared to talk to you. It made me laugh, actually. I said "But you all never asked me out, never called me up and said 'Hey, you... can we go out?' or 'Hey, girl, would you like to go to the movies?'" They said they were all too scared, that I was "quiet" and "a good girl". Hmph. If only they knew.

It makes you wonder how different your life could be... instead I went through all four years of high school with the same boyfriend from my block, and then when I graduated high school went a little buckwild, probably out of boredom. In my senior year I knew my round-the-way boyfriend wasn't going to come with me to the prom, cuz he never left the block... so I set about to flirt with one of the guys from the basketball team (we had one of the worst basketball teams in the city... after all, we were artistic) and made him my school boyfriend, and we went to the prom.

I feel really bad but I dumped him right after that. eeek. He's the tall one on my right in the picture.

But the reunion was fun. One of the best parts for me was that the two girls I hung out with the most and who I counted as friends were there... and one of them I don't think I've seen since the summer we graduated--24 years. It was really cool to see them, and so funny to watch the years melt away... the two organizers even had appropriate '80's jams going on the CD player.

M&A All The Way!

It wasn't an official school-sanctioned one, but a gathering started by two friends from the year before mine. There was food and drink, and a little bit of booze stashed away. But everyone said more folk showed up this year than last... one guy flying in from Chicago just for the event. It'll be even bigger next year...

The Professor came with me. She spent a lot of time at my high school cuz she would come up after school or on days she didn't have to go, so a lot of folk knew her as well. She said she was watching the salmonella multiply on the chicken, convinced that the flame of the barbecue wasn't high enough, so she went and took over the grill. Which was an awfully nice thing to do cuz then everyone else got to shoot the breeze, but they all came over to pay their respects to "the grillmaster."

The day had started out beautifully, but by the time the Professor and the Sun and I got there it had started to rain and was cold as hell. But we hung out anyway, shivering, standing under umbrellas and chatting. Eventually the rain stopped and we warmed up a little.

The Sun had a great time with the other kids that were there. Finally at about 7:30P the Professor and I headed home...

Jury's still out on TomCat. He's still walking with his turmoil but I heard from him today, though briefly. I dunno... it's odd because the reality is it's barely been a month that we've been hanging out though it seems like a lifetime. But a month is an awfully short time in the scheme of things. So I'm reserving judgment for a bit...

But I'm ever hopeful...

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Punching Bags Are Useful Things

...on which to take out emotions like pain and hurt, and anger too. Although at the moment my emotions tend to the former, rather than the latter.

We didn't get to karate early like I'd wanted to, so instead of working out with BigSensei (LittleSensei is in Puerto Rico) I got to work out with CrazyPurpleBelt. This kid is like 18 (though he doesn't look or act it), Mexican, and speaks very little English... and the English he does speak is heavily accented. So basically what he does is rip off combos and times them for like 10 minutes, shouting "GO!" every time he wants you to execute. I'm not sure he can even count in English, since I've never heard him do it. I try to avoid working out with him, but I needed to work out today (it's been a week) so there was no other way. And I surprised myself... I held my own against two teenage boys, one of whom was a little embarrassed about it.

At first he had me hitting the bag without handguards and my knuckles got a little red and sore--felt good though. I took advantage of his offer of pads... but he made the boys go without. At the end, we had to do a double-roundhouse kick, and then a blitz of a backfist and a jab. And because he wasn't counting, only shouting "GO!" I actually found myself getting into a rhythm.

I might actually be able to get into a ring one day. That would be something.

Afterwards, BigSensei dropped the Sun and I off at the Target on 225, and the Professor met us there. She was off to Long Island City to give her 4 zebra finches to a lady who wanted them. They'd found each other on Craigslist. Professor doesn't want any more pets. I'd take the birds... they were awfully cute and had the most interesting little chirps, but I'm not a bird person. Too flitty for me. And it would torture the hell out of my poor cat.

Today was hard for me. Questions, bewilderment... my little tincan is getting closer and closer to re-entry, I feel. It even bounced off the atmosphere a few times today, skipping across the surface like a round stone on a smooth pond. But after awhile, like hitting the bag, I found a rhythm to the day...

I tackled the The Beast--those braids of the Sun's I'd been avoiding. Superfat conditioner and some water, and they came out fairly easily. Certainly about 100 times easier than it was to detangle that giant dread last year. Tomorrow, we'll wash it...

I'm supposed to go to an unofficial reunion barbecue for my High School tomorrow. And Monday I have a meeting and I'll attempt karate, and Tuesday if it doesn't rain the FatLady and I talked about the beach, and I haven't gotten much further than that but I'm just going to keep plodding onward... ever hopeful.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Evening at Shea

The Moon's daycamp gave him 5 tickets to the Mets/Marlins game last night. Both his parents had to work, so I agreed to take the tickets and take him and the Sun, since the Sun loves the Mets and it's probably the only game he'll get to see. And since I had the two extra I asked Professor to come along and MMB, since neither of them has ever been to a baseball game. Ever.

The seat were in DA NOSEBLEED section. Holy Cow. Way High. Row Q... 4 rows from the top of the stadium, high. Professor sat down and for about 10 minutes refused to move. But then she got used to it. And then she got into it, as did MMB, which was really cool.

The Sun loves going to games... and he got his love of the Mets from his dad. I took pictures of the Sun and Moon and sent them to his dad:

It was a good game, actually. And it was cool to get the chance to go to Shea Stadium before they tear it down and replace it with the new, totally-different-looking CitiField (blech).

Even though MMB enjoyed most of the game, the boys annoyed her a little, and eventually she fell asleep:
But we all had a great time.

Nosebleed Tickets: Free
Parking: $15
3 Hot Dogs: $15
3 Cotton Candies: $12
1 Bag Peanuts: $4.75
1 bottle Pepsi split 3 ways: $4.25
1 bottle bud (blech) split two ways $8.00 (or $2.00 a swig)
Evening with the fam at a ballgame: Priceless.

Really $59 with another $10 for tolls on the bridge, but who's counting?

Oh, and the Mets won....
...and after I sent pictures to SD, I got several texts from him and one of them even made reference to an old inside joke we used to have about Mel Rojas.

Can You Hear Me, Major Tom?

I have this "thing"... can't recall if I've ever written about it here... this "thing" where I can detect people in mental distress. I never really knew I had it until the Sun came along. But after his birth, it got very strong.

I find myself drawn to folk who are in some form of quandary, or pivotal moment in their lives. It used to be that I would be completely consumed by them, thinking it love or friendship... and they would heal from me. But then they'd move on leaving me behind, and wondering. Sometimes, if I'm really close to someone, I can feel their agitation as if it's my own. And sometimes, if someone is severely distressed, like having a breakdown or a serious mental episode, I get the oddest sensation that starts at the back of my neck and travels up and over my neck and head like a hood. Usually it's men I've become close to, but occasionally there are women.

One was my ex-best friend. It was so intense between us (she was in an abusive relationship, and at the time I was single, before SD) that I could feel when she was having a really bad day. For her part, she was a little psychic. When I got pregnant and had cravings for orange juice, she would call me up to check if what she was feeling was my craving or hers. Usually, it was mine. Another friend was the Candlelady. Boy did she have issues... MAJOR issues. But I loved her deeply and helped her build a business until one day she just really flipped out and left. I was devastated. I couldn't understand why a "friend" would just up and leave, like that. But over time I came to see that what was there was my sensitivity to her turmoil (and XBF's as well) and not a true love or friendship. Cuz in true love or friendship, people give back.

There's more to it than what I'm telling, actually, and other examples, and a whole long story of how one day I realized "OH!!! I need to stay away from that person or they'll suck me in" but the point of this ramble is that I have wondered recently if all there really is to TomCat and me is the mental distress thing. Cuz apparently, at the moment he seems to have turmoil... and I don't post other people's turmoil, only my own, so I won't go into it. And the reality is that I haven't known him closely for too long... so I don't know how he is under this kind of pressure. And it also dawned on me a few nights ago, that there was stuff I could "see" about him... and then I realized I should probably tell him in case all there is the mental distress thing. Cuz this way, he could take what it was he needed to be told, and if it's only the mental distress thing maybe I could free myself. But if it's more than that, I'd know.

Well, I still don't know. And I feel like my little tin can is approaching Earth's atmosphere at an alarming rate, and is going to be incinerated/blown to bits at any moment.

This one felt different; this one gave foot massages. This one really did make a dream come true. I hope it's not that mental distress thing again...

Friday, August 8, 2008

Don't Feel Like Blogging

...cuz there's not much to say. Well, there's a whole lot to say but I'm mulling it all over and don't feel like letting it go yet.

Mundane stuff

  • I never did say that Bigbear's been away since last Wednesday at a Tai Chi seminar... she came back yesterday full of chi and looking good.

  • The Sun's hair is still in those nasty braids cuz I dread (pun intended) taking them out. He however, loves them, nasty bugger.

  • My coffeepot died a few weeks ago, and I'd been struggling. Then Vegas, lousy coffee, distractions, no coffee. Yesterday I wanted a cup, and was on the phone with the Fat Lady talking about how I was all or nothing... I mentioned I missed the taste of coffee and she said well there's decaf. I said no, why drink it if you weren't gonna get the buzz? That that was half the fun. So I get off the phone and go into Dunkin' Donuts and get a medium Turbo Ice (has a shot of espresso), 3 sugars and cream... and got such a jolt my hands were jittery. Totally spaced me out. Maybe I've kicked the coffee habit...

  • Poppy got the official invite for the Anisfield-Wolf awards and the picture I took looks pretty good... a little flat cuz I'd toned down the contrast thinking in reproduction it might get contrasty... but oh well. It was the right picture. The press release is up but not the current winners list. But oh... I got a photo credit. Purty kewl...

  • I have work to do. I'm gonna try my damnedest to stay focused and do it. But it's a little hard right now.
That's all for now.

updated 11:57A

I forgot one thing...
  • I'm an honest chick and give props where props are due... and I don't think I can rightly call him TF right now cuz he's trying, and I'm trying, and for now there's peace. So until/unless something changes, from now on I'm going to refer to the Sun's Dad what he is, SD... SunsDad... He's due.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Ever Hopeful...

I am. It's my one of my best traits, and one of my worst. I don't believe in dreams coming true, but I always hope that they will. I don't believe in Happy Ever After but I swear I hope that someone comes along and proves me wrong. I believe that people suck, but I always hope I'll find the few that don't.

Ever Hopeful... Hope brings me up to the highest heights, even though I know I'm going to be right and it will all turn to crap. And no matter how much I tell myself it's OK and not to believe in the fairy tale, I still hope, and when I'm right, I still cry. Every time.

I want to be wrong.

I need for someone to prove me wrong...

Cuz till then I'm gonna be ever hopeful that I am.

Sex Sells

no matter how people try to act like they're unaffected.

It amuses the crap out of me that when I was posting about important things like race and Obama, I had my regulars, and those people commented... but since I've been posting about my lovelife, boy the hits keep coming!

Like all kinds of interesting people come to visit, (I can see from sitemeter) and linger... but aren't commenting. Like I said... amuses the crap out of me.

Although at the moment I'm undecided again. I had one of those momthings happen to me, that required a doctors visit and a particularly aggressive antibiotic was prescribed. Now, I don't think I've taken antibiotics since I was pregnant... and probably for the same thing. And I don't remember being this sick. Holy fuck. This stuff knocked me on my ass and had me reeling, and I'll be damned if I continue taking it. Whatever was in my has got to be dead anyhow, seeing as how for about 3 minutes I was certain I was gonna keel over for real.

Which leads me back to point "A"---once again, here I was, sick as shit, taking care of me.

I sat down on the red couch next to Peanutbutter (who spent the entire day in his pajamas, feet in the air, watching "Bionicle" movies and playing with Bionicles), and told him to wake me up in a half hour. An hour later, my neighbor Thumbelina walked in and that's what woke me up. It was 7PM. I hadn't been able to do anything for the past 4 hours... and after a slow month, I actually have work. And I need to friggin' get paid cuz I'm expecting the landlord to call me any second.

Anyway... I get and realize I need to get dinner going. I had spoken to the doctor earlier (that's how concerned I was) and he said try one more day... but the stuff I have to take must be taken with food. Although it takes your appetite away. Go figure. So I figure that I'll make some meat and starch, and I make lambchops and cheesy potatoes. (Yeah, I know... my arteries are screaming but I was hoping to cushion the blow, and I couldn't go outside to get a vegetable, and boy do I crave salad.) But here I am, queasy and headachy... taking care of me.

I choke down dinner, and another round of medication, and BAM!--instant fucking headache. But I have to get the kid in the bed, get the laundry out of the dryer, clean up the kitchen a little (just so the bugs won't come---I spotted one the other day and I've NEVER had bugs in the 9 years I've lived here) and all the while I think I'm gonna puke.

The kid is still on Cali time, so even tho we're both in the bed by 11P, I can't move by this point cuz I guess the headache morphed into a migraine, he's wide awake and crying cuz he can't find his sleepy toy Red Panda, and he can't sleep, and I'm screaming at him... look. You have to be independent cuz I feel like crap and nobody's taking care of mommy.

Then I feel bad, cuz I know he's still adjusting to NY time and being home... so I call him in my room and make him feel better by rubbing my back (completely ineffective, poor thing... although I loved feeling his concern for me) and instructing him on how to get me water and exedrin.

But basically, I'm taking care of me. Alone. Again. And the point of a lovelife is....?????

Fuck this shit.

And of course, since I asleep by about 12:30 when the exedrin kicked in... I've been up since 4. But I'm going to try for another hour or so...

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Sixty-Five Minutes and some Seconds how long I was on the phone with my new best friend, TF.



Couldn't get him off the phone, either.

We recapped the whole trip, he told me stuff he observed with the Sun (um, like he's a slacker... even-tempered, even-keeled, no-high-no-low, smile-no-matter-what, not-particularly-aggressive.... a true Pisces. Not for nothing, it's another reason why TomCat feels familiar) and how he approached it. I laughed to myself cuz he left out some of his own intensity... but at the same time he was pretty complimentary. Even said I was a good mom. (WWWWWOOOOOOAAAAHHH).

He told me he'd had a sex-talk with the kid, too. Oh, to be a fly on the wall with that one. Left out the part about him getting mad at the Sun cuz the Sun hid a sandwich in the garbage. Sun had wanted to go the pool, and his dad told him to finish the sandwich. And the Sun hadn't wanted to, so he tried to hide the other half of the sandwich in the garbage but his dad found it. Yikes. But I didn't get his side of that story, nor did I ask.

He asked me about TomCat, whether or not I referred to him as "boyfriend", which I don't but DudeNamedTommy had, accidentally, and in front of the Sun. DNT had called me and apologized for that later, which I told TF. Before we flew out, when I had called TF to explain that TomCat was coming, I'd told him that TomCat and I were pretty low-key around the Sun, until we figure out what we were doing. But to be fair, no one ever explained that to DNT. So TF had been upset with DNT because of the slipup. TomCat had noticed it to, but I figured that if we all played "dumb" and didn't make a big deal either way, the Sun may or may not have noticed but the possibility would also exist that the term would just fly under the radar. Which it seems to have done...

We talked about the Sun going out for Christmas. Originally, the Sun hadn't been too happy with the thought, seeing as how it meant giving up Christmas at the Titi's, but it seems he may be OK with that now. Which means I'm going to have to think about that very soon. Ugh. But... if the kid wants to go, then he's going to go... Vegas, anyone?

And lastly, I asked him how he felt about me contacting his family, his sister in particular. He said although he hasn't spoken to them in years, he didn't mind. (????) So I said I would try. I told him it was because the Sun is very proud to be Albanian, and wears his flag on his gi with pride, and had even talked to the two tall Albanian dudes that go to the dojo in the Bronx. TF got pretty quiet at that... but I was glad that he was OK with the idea.

Can you imagine? Whodathunk it??? I pray it lasts. But I was also really glad to have a little conversation about the TomCat, so that TF won't think things might possibly could go back... cuz no, they couldn't. Good Lord.

But this conversation, hands down, was the best conversation I've had with TF in years. All 65 minutes and some seconds of it.

Monday, August 4, 2008


is the mood du jour. Although having my Sun back is a wonderful thing. I can never function when he's away... like the Bill Wither's song says "Ain't No Sunshine When He's Gone." All my desire to do anything completely disappears. I know a lot of it is PTSD... being so very worried when he wasn't with me, because I couldn't communicate with his dad and wasn't sure what his father would do I couldn't breathe. This last visit was definitely easier. It helped knowing that if contacted TF he'd answer, it helped knowing that because TF was easier the Sun felt comfortable answering his phone and or calling me. It helped being able to "see" him via webcam. So while I still had the old sensation of holding my breath, and feeling incapacited, it wasn't as bad as it's been. And Vegas helped, and of course TomCat helped.

I think that no matter what, I will try to be the one to take the Sun out to see his dad, especially in the summers, and then hop on a bus and go to Vegas and go see Aunt LV. Vegas rocked... although there will be memories....

Now that the Sun is back I have some energy back. I have to give props to my little big sister... when we were kids she was the biggest damn slob you ever did see, and when we were teens and lived together next door from the parents, her room was awful. And the bathroom we shared would drive me to insanity, and we had fistfights over it, even. I was anally neat... no one even dared enter my room.

Now, it's quite the opposite, but I know that my apartment reflects my inner turmoil, my feeling of being overwhelmed. I function pretty well, but there's so much I don't get to pay attention to, and a lot of times that includes the apartment. The living room was looking really bad... and it had been my intention this summer to clean it up. Well, all that went to hell in anticipation of The Trip, and I allowed things to distract me. But it's funny... soon as the Sun came home I had the energy. I started by deforesting my plant corner. I was really trying to kill them all, and managed to kill a few, but the ones that held on--I figured they deserved another chance, right? So I repotted the straggly rubber tree and cut down the ginormous frondy stalk-thing I don't know the name of, and it looks a little better.

And I'm cleaning up my desk.

But I'm feeling "some kinda way" and I hate being "here", in this mindframe. The TomCat is away, and it was something I knew about as soon as we started talking about Vegas. So I'm not upset about that part... I'm upset that it bothers me when it so didn't bother me in the beginning. I did kinda bogart my way into his life, although to be fair to myself I told him upfront I was all-or-nothing. And even though he's not all or nothing he certainly bogarted his way into mine. About the last thing I said to him Friday, when I was out, and he was texting as he was leaving was that I told him all along I wouldn't be able to do the sharing thing for long. I told him I wasn't going to go chasing him while he's out TomCatting cuz that's so not my style, so other than a "poke" or two I haven't heard from him. But boy do I miss him.

But there's absolutely nothing I can do about anything, but wait and see how it turns out... and continue to live my life and clean my nasty apartment and do some work... so that's what I'm gonna do.

But you, yeah you I'm talking to you... if you read this yes I miss you. So there.

The Sun is still on Cali-time, and at 11A he's still sleeping. But I'm gonna get him up soon and figure out the rest of the day...

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Littleboy Back....

...except he looks like he grew an inch, and is about 2 shades duskier than he was. He gained a little muscle, some insight I think, and his hair is still braided. I guess TF decided not to mess with it.

I needn't have worried about him wanting to come home. Seems TF is still his usual intense self, and they seemed to have clashed a few times. Which is good; it means that the Sun is strong enough to maintain his identity around his dad. But I am glad the Sun had someone else to run up on cuz he had definitely gained some smartmouth tendencies in the last year, which of course comes with the age.

TF was very cordial, made small talk and even allowed my hug when we separated. I told him it was much much better this way. I still don't trust him, and I hope that this cordiality will continue... I hope we can get through negotiating all the upcoming visits without fighting. I hope everyone has grown a little...

We got home and of course the Sun wanted to sleep in my bed, where he still is, still sleeping. It's good to have him back. I missed him.

All the other problems remain though, and well... only time will tell me what the outcome will be for any of them.
Wayat! Wayat! Wayat! Wayat! Deygo! Deygo! In other words, he's back. Fuzzy braids & all.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Living and Dying All In The Same Breath...

...was too sloshy and slow to get to class to work out... I could have made it actually, but the thought of jumping around didn't make me happy. Tequila doesn't make me sick, at least. Definitely a plus. 100% Agave is the trick.

So, I went up to Yonkers later because there was a Karate Parent Association meeting, for which my presence is apparently required. Why, I don't know, since it's always entirely in Spanish and I rarely know what the hell anybody is talking about. But they want me there, the brothers. So I'm there. And it's a good thing I don't understand Spanish, too, other than a few words cuz there's a parent or two that continually bitch about the dumbest shit, and when the president translates for me I feel my blood pressure rise almost instantly. Why do people aggravate me so? TomCat had said to me yesterday that he was beginning to dislike people again, and I said "again?, shit. I never like people."

Which is what's hard for me about TomCat, cuz I can actually tolerate him but whatever. I haven't cut him off inside yet, though that could be coming, but have merely backed up to give me room to think. To give both of us a chance to think.

Shoefly was like "well you knew it was coming and what he's like" and yeah I do... but I also know there are two very distinct sides to his personality, and the "other" was out yesterday. The one I knew before I really knew him. It was kinda funny to see it again.... since I've come to really know and like the other one. But we'll see. I said from the very beginning that this one was definitely different; and so I'm trying not to react to things in the same way. You never know with people... people walk with a lot of shit and it's always interesting to see what situations bring out what baggage and how they choose to deal with it. I know that being around him has forced me to look at things in myself a lot differently... even more differently than I began to look at things when I was dealing with Nene.

And two weeks... things were interesting before Vegas but Vegas put a whole new spin on things... and I feel like I've lived a whole life in two weeks. I've definitely changed. And I'm sad... but maybe I'm only sad because in living a whole other life I'm dying a death, too. The Sun will be home at midnight, but life won't go back to the "normal" it was before Vegas.

The Sun will have changed in these two weeks... and I've changed. It'll be a new life for me and the Sun, and one in which I've no idea what comes next. And I've no walls or gates to protect me anymore and while I know the Fat Lady thinks this is a good thing, I don't really think it is. Now I've no protection at all... from anything. Least of all myself. How can that be good?

In an interesting development, though, Fluffernutter has resurfaced. I don't think I blogged about Fluffernuter... he was done and gone before I started blogging. But I'd met him while at Pratt, and had a crazy crush on him for a minute. But he was busy breaking up with one girl, and then getting together with a new girl, and at the time I thought he was too young for me. But he's older than Nene, ha ha, so now he seems old to me. Pretty funny. Anyway, apparently the girl left him, and he seemed really sad about that... much sadder than he was about the previous girl. I felt bad for him. The irony of him resurfacing now made me chuckle, though... but... so much has happened and I'm such a different person now. And while I'm hesitant to make any declarations about the TomCat for very obvious reasons... hell I gave Nene a year at least. I don't think I can afford a year with TomCat for dignity's sake, but two months is definitely too soon to give up, given the level of intensity.

So I'm ruminating on all this as I wait in the Professor's house, waiting for my Sun to come home. A little fearful... will he still want me? How hard will it be for him to transition back to our ordinary little life? Or maybe I've changed so much in the past two weeks that life won't be the same kind of ordinary. He's done so much in LA... an Angels game, the X-Games, Toyota Speedway, Universal Studios, Chuck E. Cheese, golfing, swimming in the pool, at the beach. I'm a little insecure. About a lot of things. A little raw, about a lot of things. But....

I'm a survivor and I'll figure it out somehow...

I'll post as soon as I can about the Sun's arrival... I haven't been able to post cellphone pictures to this blog for some reason, but as soon as I can I'll let you all know...

Intuition Is A Useful Thing

particularly when you pay attention to it.

It actually makes things easier to deal with. That, and being completely aware of what you're working with.

The TomCat is tomcattin... and will be for a few days. Fuck him. The entertaining thing is that he was just a little concerned about what I'll be doing while he's gone. I'll be fine, I said. I take care of myself, and when it involves tequila everything's fine. I told him the story about the woman who takes care of the dying snake--told him I knew what he was when I picked him up.

So... I went out with a crazy friend last night.. SouthAmerican Chick. She has about as many issues as I do--probably more, even--and she's 13 years my junior. She's cool though, and I like her and I hope that by the time she's my age maybe she'll work those issues out.

We started out by meeting one of her friends for dinner in a fancy vegan restaurant. A dude who's interested in her (and I liked him for her but she wasn't feeling it AT ALL) and then we went to Gonzalez y Gonzalez. Finally, I made it down there. The only disappointing thing was that I wanted very badly for the Professor to come, but TinyOne is in the hospital again with asthma, and MMB has some kind of a stomach bug.

The band at G&G was slamming... wow. The last number or two of the night the percussionists were flying. I danced (badly) with some barely-English-Speaking older dude named Reynaldo who was really nice and an "even" dancer. He did the same steps and combos over and over so by the time I was drunk enough to dance I actually could follow him. He must have made me look good cuz after I left some big dude named Smokey (who was a tattoo artist and had "mad tats, yo") came over and I danced barefoot with him.

I drunk-deleted phone numbers, texts, and messages.

So now, I'm gonna attempt karate (whooo! dunno though. Lotta tequila still sloshin' around in there), but my Peanutbutter is coming home!!!!!

Friday, August 1, 2008


Seriously, I know folks mean well but they need to stop telling me to take it easy. There's a lot in life I can handle, a lot I can roll with. There's an awful lot of shit I've endured and will endure, and there's stuff I can tolerate.

But there's stuff I can't. I know my limits. I know what I'm not capable of.

And so right now I'm running. Watch my white-tailed-ass leap over tall grass in a single bound.

I was hoping I could ride it out a little longer, was trying not to freak out so soon. Was trying to have more faith and believe more. Really, I can do that, given the right set of circumstances. "Relaxing and having fun" when it comes to men and sex, however, is just not something I am capable of. If that means that that I'm doomed to be alone, then fuck it. Cuz I can't afford to hang my ass out to be played with.

I'm not even going to go into specifics other than what I posted yesterday, and truthfully it really wasn't much. Just feelings, just my gut alarms going off.

I hung out with the Fat Lady and OneHalf and her kids today; riding around, going to Trader Joe's and Pathmark and Target... mundane, ordinary shit that made me feel good and normal. I love my friends because they are calm, and they don't push me when they see I'm quiet. And it's not like I didn't hear from TomCat cuz I did.... but my gut is in knots and I have my reasons. So I went to karate. And then afterwards I hung out with Big Sensei and his wife and her sister and a coupla other people they knew and I didn't... at a Spanish bar under the #6 train tracks in the Bronx. I ate tostones and chicharrones de pollo and lots of garlic sauce and two shots of tequila, and I sang two karaoke songs and for a minute I felt OK.

BigSensei and Son drove me home afterwards, and now I don't feel OK.

Vegas was a beautiful, beautiful dream but I guess it's time to wake the fuck up.